


Where the Roses Grow

by Catlorde



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Din/OC, F/M, Family, Fluff, Found Family, Healing, Heavy Fic, Implied Sexual Assault, Mando/OC - Freeform, OC is a slave, Romance, Slavery, Slavery and associated themes, Smut, Touch-Starved, Touch-starved idiots, Trust Issues, they both need some TLC, warnings posted to the beginning of each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:35:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catlorde/pseuds/Catlorde
Summary: The compound on Arvala-7 didn’t house one bounty, but two. Elsi Nokk is an enslaved nanny with more than a few tricks up her sleeve. She’ll do anything to protect her charge, even if it means standing against - and then with - a certain Mandalorian.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Character(s), Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), Mando/Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 78
Kudos: 197





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be one of my heavier stories. It’ll deal with some topics surrounding slavery and the abuse that comes with it. 
> 
> I’ll post warnings at the beginning of each chapter.
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: MILD VIOLENCE, ELECTROCUTION, IMPLIED REFERENCE TO SEXUAL ASSAULT.

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_Chapter One_ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

  
  


“ _Subparagraph 16 of the Bondsman Guild Protocol Waiver compels you to immediately produce said asset.”_

The thin metallic voice echoed faintly through the stone halls, but after a lifetime of eavesdropping she heard it loud and clear. Without missing a beat, she scooped up the tiny green creature that had been playing by her feet. To the baby, with his massive bat-like ears, the not-so-distant blaster fire must’ve been frighteningly loud. His dark eyes blinked up at her worriedly, ears held flat to his shoulders. 

She pressed a kiss to his wrinkled forehead. With the child cradled protectively to her chest, she hurried across the room, neatly side-stepping piles of supplies and junk. The baby’s bassinet sat among the wall, small and unassuming among the scattered bits of droid and speeder parts the Nikto mercenaries had scavenged from raiding bounty hunters. 

With practiced ease, she balanced the baby in one arm while opening the bassinet with the other. The quick press of a few buttons revealed the baby’s sleeping space. Small and dark, but made homey by several small blankets and a patchwork cloth frog, all lovingly made in the bright colors. Her fingers ached with the memory of each tiny stitch. She deposited the baby in its bassinet, tucking in the blanket corners gently. 

He curled his little claws into the top blanket - the red one. His favorite. She smiled down at him sadly, wishing there was something she could do to stop the never-ending noise and violence; to stop him from being afraid. He was unlike any other child that had fallen into her care over the years. If he were, perhaps she could offer more comfort. But he always seemed shockingly aware of the galaxy around him.

He knew there were people dying outside. He knew they were coming for him.

She pressed a finger over her lips. It was something they’d practiced extensively. He copied the gesture, pressing one of his three fingers over his mouth with a self-pleased grin. 

She could distract him, at least. 

Despite the severity of the situation, she couldn’t help but return the smile. She leaned down to press a last quick kiss to the baby’s brow before pulling away and closing the bassinet’s shutters. 

“ _Subparagraph 16 of the Bondsman Guild Protocol Waiver compels you to immediately produce said asset.”_

A few armed Niktos swarmed through the narrow space, causing her to flatten herself against the wall to let them pass. She was of little interest or value to them. An extra piece of furniture that they had to feed. They sidestepped her with the same regard they gave to the half-forgotten piles of junk they housed her and her charge among. Her safety was the absolute last thing on their minds. 

She was far too used to it to be offended. The heavy metal collar around her neck caused others to set her apart and then aside. It had once bit into her skin and drawn blood, but over the years the skin underneath had scarred and calloused. 

Now it only itched.

Knowing that it was up to her to keep herself alive, she tossed a ragged tarp over the bassinet and piled a couple of other odds and ends on top in hopes that if anyone did make it through, they wouldn’t realize it contained what they sought. At least not immediately. Just long enough for her to get a bearing on the newcomers’ intentions. Specifically, whether or not they intended to harm the baby. 

She had no love for the Nikto gang. They were just the most recent in the rather long line of hands the child had fallen into over the past two years - and those were just the ones she knew about. But as brutish as the group of mercenaries could be, they generally left her and the child to their own devices - so long as they weren’t in the way. 

She’d had far worse masters.

But, should the newcomers be successful, She didn’t want to be seen as one of the mercenaries. That was a very easy way to get a bolt through the head. Nor did she want to show any support for the attackers. Should they lose, the Nikto would be sure to express their displeasure. 

She slipped behind a few crates to wait, well out of sight but with a clear view of where the baby hid. Passive defense had served her well in the past, and she saw no reason to alter tactics now.

The battle outside was louder than ever, the usual blaster fire underscoring heavy artillery that made the air vibrate. She waited with bated breath, listening intently despite wanting to clamp her hands over her ears to defend against the volume.

Silence fell. 

She waited. 

There was movement outside. Footsteps. Two, at a guess, but there was no way to tell which side they were on. She stayed hidden.

She was startled by the sound of someone running. Someone close, _too_ close. Before she had a chance to work out who they were and why they’d been able to get so close without her noticing, they were crashing into the barrels she had hidden herself behind and locking a hand around her throat just above the collar.

She wheezed as the grip tightened. They slung her around violently so that she faced them. It was Grod, the leader of the mercenary band. There was nothing particularly special about him - besides him being a little bigger than the rest... and the fact that he currently had the control fob to her collar. 

Grod hissed something at her in Nikto, squeezing her throat tighter for emphasis.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, eyes wide and pleading. “I don’t know Nikto.”

It was a lie, of course. But the tide had turned against Grod and she had no intention of assisting him in whatever he had planned - which probably included running. A bad idea in the middle of the desert. Especially while being hunted.

Grod snarled, perhaps having caught the lie. He fished in the rugged leather of his jacket and revealed the fob. It was small - just the right size to fit in the palm of the hand - metallic and black. A dial sat in the center of the object, along with a few buttons. 

She was painfully aware of its function. Cold fear washed over her, but she didn’t back down. 

Grod turned the dial and pressed the button. The collar around her neck seared into her skin. Her vision went white. She crumpled to the ground, mouth open in a silent cry as her limbs jerked and twitched with electricity. 

She wasn’t entirely aware of what happened next, but through the pain she saw Grod turn with his blaster only to fall at her side an instant later. 

Someone loomed over her, no more than a pale shadow in her pain-washed vision. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, unable to get enough air to cry out. Her teeth gnashed and rattled in their sockets. She heard voices, but couldn’t make out the words through the ringing in her ears.

The electricity stopped, but the pain didn’t. She gasped like a fish, trying to force her lungs to draw in enough air to breathe through the pain. Her muscles twitched by their own volition, trying to work out which electrical signals they were supposed to obey now that the horrible surge had come and gone. 

Darkness ate at the corners of her vision. She sank away into dizzying blackness.

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

_“Nan!” Hetta’s shrill voice sliced through the air, shattering what had been an otherwise peaceful evening._

_Elsi Nokk heaved a great sigh, trying to convince herself to be content with listening to her charge’s whiny shouts, so long as it bought her a few more minutes of solitude. She bent over her needlework with redoubled effort, so that when the child finally found her, it would seem that she’d been too preoccupied to notice._

_“Nan Elsi!”_

_Nan, of course, was short for Nanny, as a slave could never hope to be awarded the title of Governess. It was a comparatively small insult, and one she was all too used to._

_She didn’t like being called Nan. It made her feel old, which she wasn’t. Her wavy blond hair had yet to start greying, even if it did look a little mousy tucked away in the low braided bun she always wore. The weathered places lining the corners of her soft grey eyes placed her in her late thirties, though her true age was anyone’s guess. A stressful life had the tendency to age a creature beyond their years, and she was no exception._

_Elsi had no guilt at leaving Hetta to search for her. At twelve years of age, the child was spoiled, bratty, and had the wit of a bantha. Each day, Elsi would take her sewing to the riverbank while Hetta took her mid-afternoon nap. She always sat in the same spot, underneath the same tree that acted as a protective screen sheltering her from both weather and prying eyes._

_Despite having found her nanny in the same spot a fair number of times, Hetta couldn’t seem to come to the logical conclusion as to where Elsi could have possibly disappeared to._

_It only took another thirty odd seconds for Elsi to give up the charade. Hetta was loud and shrill, which wasn’t good for the headache that had already been building behind Elsi’s eyes. She heaved a great sigh and tucked her sewing back into her bag, folding everything neatly and ensuring that the needle wasn’t going anywhere._

_She stood and brushed away the low hanging leaves, parting them and striding out into the sunlight. “Here, Hetta.”_

_Hetta bounded across the short lawn and stopped in front of her nanny, where she stood bouncing on her toes. She was a blonde-haired bundle of sickeningly sweet pink and lace, a dress that Elsi had slaved over for weeks. Elsi’s keen eyes picked out the dirt smudged across the fabric covering her left knee and the slight tattering on the hem; two flaws that hadn’t been present when she dressed her that morning._

_Elsi tried not to be harsh about it. Hetta was only a child, and she was constantly reminding herself that children were SUPPOSED to play and get dirty. Had the universe been different, Elsi herself might’ve been exactly like Hetta as a child . But she’d learned early on to keep her smocks clean and pressed, as those that taught her weren’t quick to make allowances._

_She subconsciously tugged at the side of her simple blue dress to straighten the imaginary wrinkles. Lessons learned at the end of a whip didn’t fade with time._

_Hetta didn’t seem to care that she behaved more like a common street urchin than the daughter of a nobleman. She had the same smug look on her face that she always wore when she knew something Elsi didn’t, which usually ended up being bad for the nanny._

_Elsi was usually quite good at predicting potential outcomes and preparing for them. But an unanticipated scenario meant she had no contingency plan for it, which exponentially increased her chances of being punished for negligence of duty._

_Elsi crossed her arms over her chest, jutting out her hip and tapping her foot impatiently. Hetta’s father, Lord Burkisn, might be Elsi’s master, but Hetta certainly wasn’t._

_Hetta’s expression faltered under Elsi’s piercing stare. Her internal debate flickered clearly across her face: to bask in powerful sensation of teasing, or to risk some kind of punishment later on. Lord Burkisn cared for his daughter, but since the death of her mother and despite his severity towards his slaves, Elsi had almost absolute power over Hetta’s upbringing._

_Elsi was not afraid to use what little power she had been allotted, and that’s what made her the best nanny an aloof widower Nobleman could possibly ask for._

_“Father wants you,” Hetta explained, glancing sheepishly down at her nanny’s shoes._

_Elsi quirked an eyebrow, hiding her unease with a lifetime’s worth of practice. “What for?”_

_“Dunno,” she said, then quickly adding, “But he wants you to hurry.”_

_Elsi doubted the child’s ignorance. Despite the threat of being reprimanded for a lack of punctuality, she fixed her charge with her best ‘no nonsense’ look that could cause plants to wilt and waited for her to offer a more acceptable explanation. It was better to be prepared than to walk into any situation blind._

_Hetta loathed that look. While she loved to cause trouble, she couldn’t stand being IN trouble. The death-glare was one of the most effective weapons in Elsi’s child-rearing arsenal, and she saved it for special occasions. Although being called to her master seemed arbitrary, having been sent for by Hetta sounded alarm bells for Elsi; it meant everyone else was otherwise preoccupied, and Elsi hadn’t been aware of anything out of the ordinary._

_“We have visitors. Daddy’s special guests,” Hetta started sheepishly. “And there’s a sick baby.”_

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

Elsi found her way back to consciousness slowly; she had to coax it - her mind and body - away from the relief of dreamless sleep and into the light. It burned her inside and out. 

She groaned softly and forced her eyes open. The dull sandstone ceiling twisted dizzyingly overhead. Nausea coiled in her gut like a serpent. She rolled over on her stomach and retched, but there was very little to vomit up. 

The collar had been on a high setting, higher than the usual level used to punish a slave. Anything above 75% for more than a minute or two, and you ran the risk of causing permanent injury to the slave - brain damage, heart conditions. In other words, property damage - something no slave trader or master wanted. 

If she had to guess, she would say that the collar had been set to somewhere around 90%.

Grod had probably only intended to give her a brief shock, a few seconds of electricity strong enough to break her into compliance. She imagined that he hadn’t expected to be distracted by the blaster bolts cutting down the thick Quadanium door. The Nikto had drawn his blaster, no longer caring about the woman writhing in uncontrollable agony at his feet. 

Movement flashed in the corner of her eye. Elsi wiped her mouth and gathered what little strength she still had in order to lift her head. She found herself looking into the smoking cranium of the IG unit, presumably the same one that she’d heard earlier. 

Panic filtered through her foggy mind. The hunter was dead. Had one of the Nikto killed it? Did she still belong to them?

Oh, how she hated not knowing what to expect. She’d survived this long by knowing how to play her cards; and though they were often shitty, she won by playing the other person.

Not knowing the other players could be fatal.

Instinctively, her head snapped to where she’d stashed the crib. To her dismay, the debris she’d hidden it behind had been tossed carelessly to the side. From her place on the floor, she could see that the shutters were open and the baby peeking out curiously at the man that stood between him and Elsi.

A Mandalorian.

She hadn’t met one before, but the trademark T visor was hard to miss. She’d heard the stories, and she wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted them to be true. They were supposed to be warriors, noble soldiers in shining armor that were indomitable on the battlefield. The best warriors in the galaxy.

Elsi couldn’t speak as to the rest, but this particular Mandalorian seemed to have seen better days. The only parts of his armor that could even begin to be described as shining were his helmet and right pauldron, and those were coated with a fine layer of dust and sand. The rest of it was mismatched, a hodgepodge of dented metal that he wore like scales, painted with rust red or a shade of tan paint that was faded and scratched. 

If he gave a shit about his appearance, he certainly didn't show it. He stood nonchalantly with one finger extended to the baby, who was reaching for it with interested little coos. Although the baby seemed to be at the center of his attention, she could infer from the tilt of his helmet that he was keeping her in his periphery. He didn’t seem to feel at all threatened by her, though. But why should he? From what she could see, he had at least one blaster at his hip and a fearsome rifle strapped over his shoulder. 

More than that, Elsi spied her slave-fob clipped to his belt. 

Feigning another bout of nausea, Elsi grit her teeth. She hadn’t met a Mandalorian before, but from what she’d heard, they could be brutal… and tricky. Some lived by what most species would call honor, others lived by how their own personal code defined it. 

He hadn’t killed her yet, so that was something. But there were much worse things that could be done to a female slave, a bitter lesson that she’d learned very young.

Slowly, Elsi worked her way up to stand on shaking legs. Once up, she kept her hands folded in front of her and her head bowed submissively. The T of the Mandalorian’s visor turned to fix her with an empty stare. 

“What is it?” 

Despite knowing exactly what he was asking, she played ignorant. “He is a child.”

“ _Yes_.” The indignation only just caught on his vocoder. “I was told the target was 50.”

“I can’t speak to his age,” Elsi offered, “but he has been in my care for two years, and he looks the same as he first did.”

The Mandalorian grunted and dropped his hand, which went to his hip. Elsi stiffened, bracing for pain, but instead of her fob, he came away with a canteen. He held it out to her. 

Wary, Elsi accepted it. She uncorked it and subtly sniffed the contents. Water. She took a few meager sips to help wash away the taste of sick, but didn’t dare drink outright. Water was precious in the desert. She wasn’t. 

The last thing she needed now was to outspend her own worth.

She returned the canteen. While he clipped it back to his belt, he asked, “You good to walk?”

Elsi wasn’t optimistic about how far her legs would carry her. She was already exhausted, drained by her collar and subsequent illness. And if that weren’t enough, months of being confined in a compound hadn’t done her any favors by the way of exercise. But, the way she saw it, there were only a handful of responses she could expect from telling a new master that she was too weak to walk and thus work. The Mandalorian had yet to be cruel, and might be willing to allow her to rest a little longer before setting out.

But she couldn’t rule out the other options just yet. The baby was the valuable one. Elsi severely doubted any bounty he intended to collect would be for her own delivery. He could just simply kill her to save himself both time and trouble. Or he could leave her behind.

For the baby’s sake, Elsi couldn’t afford to risk either.

“I can walk,” she said. “But first, may I collect his things?”

The Mandalorian’s helmet adopted a thoughtful tilt, as if he hadn’t considered that the child should need things other than a bassinet. 

He nodded curtly. “Be quick.”

Elsi dipped her head obediently and shuffled off to the abandoned corner she and the child usually occupied. 

Her limbs were still wobbly and ached dully from the collar, but she ignored them and quickly packed the few meager possessions they had between them into a worn russack sack; several of the child’s robes, an extra dress for Elsi, a few days worth of rations and a large canteen of water, as well as a few other odds and ends. 

Last but not least, Elsi’s special needle in its ornate casing was tucked away into one of the hidden pockets she’d sewn into her dress. The casing was made of rosy bronze metal, embossed with finger-worn roses and an image of a needle and thread. It was the only thing of worth she possessed, having inherited it from another slave. Although its contents had long since dried beyond use, she kept it close, waiting for the opportunity to fill it again. 

She finished quickly and padded back to where the Mandalorian stood waiting. Her heart clenched when she saw him holding the little cloth frog she’d made for the baby. He held it up to his visor, turning it back and forth. Elsi held her breath, half expecting him to toss it to the side. 

He didn’t. When he saw Elsi approaching, he returned the doll back to the child’s outstretched hands. The baby squeaked happily.

The Mandalorian held his hand out for the bag. Elsi gave it to him without question and watched with subdued frustration as he rooted through it and upset all of her carefully folded and packed items. 

She picked idly at the bracelet snaked around her wrist. It was the only ornamentation she’d been allowed to keep over the last ten years or so. It was nothing special, just a long braid of twisted leather with little burgundy beads that wrapped around her wrist seven or eight times. It was cheap and looked it. But wearing it made her feel safe, and so wear it she did. 

Satisfied that she wasn’t hiding any weapons from him, the Mandalorian stuffed everything half-hazardly into the bag before thrusting it back in her direction. She shouldered it without comment, hiding her displeasure at how lumpy and awkward it now was. 

Unbothered, the Mandalorian tapped idly at one of his vambraces. The bassinet beeped in confirmation. 

When he led the way out into the compound, the bassinet trailed after him obediently, its passenger giggling excitedly to his nanny, who forced a smile and nodded along to his babbling. Elsi, already dreading the journey, brought up the rear. 

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all that reviewed!
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: MILD VIOLENCE, STRONGLY IMPLIED CHILD ABUSE, SLAVERY AND ASSOCIATED THEMES

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Two** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

It was hot.

The walk hadn't started out horribly. Despite her trepidation, she was still able to appreciate a change in scenery after being penned up in the compound for so long. Thankfully, they'd only been in direct sunlight for about a half hour. After that, they walked in the shade offered by the maze of shallow canyons that stretched out around the compound in every direction.

The baby was having the time of his life. He perched in his bassinet, happy as a clam as he watched lizards skitter in and out of cracks. Life in the compound had been boring for Elsi, but it had been even more frustrating for him. Elsi had done everything in her power to keep him entertained and happy, but a child needed more than his nanny to play with while locked in the same building for so long.

There had been so many games of hide-and-seek.

To him, the change in scenery was magical. He would communicate this to his caretaker, who would humor him by nodding and forcing a smile. He also tried talking to his new friend - the Mandalorian - who ignored him entirely.

Elsi, mindful of annoying a new master - even if it was only a temporary arrangement - had to repeatedly reinforce their little 'be quiet' signal. Each time she held her finger over her lips, the baby would dutifully copy the motion and fall silent, only to forget a minute or so later and go back to chittering for attention.

Not that she blamed him. Their joint existence had been a lonely one.

**_._ **

_**~0~0~0~** _

_Elsi didn't dawdle._

' _Daddy's special quests', as Hetta so eloquently put it, was a not-so-discreet euphemism for 'Underworld Contacts'. Like almost every nobleman that managed to cling to power through the rise of the Empire, Lord Burkisn made deals - most under the table, some not - with Imperial officials and dealers. Elsi didn't hold it against him; he was a politician, and that's what politicians did. But now that the Empire had fallen, Lord Burkisn was scrambling to appease the New Republic while still managing old promises._

_Although the Empire was technically gone, the power and influence of the Imperial Underworld remained. When an Empire Remnant called in a favor, you did your best to accommodate._

_Elsi's soft shoes were soundless on the shiny tile floors as she bustled through the ornate halls, keeping to the walls in order to avoid other servants and the odd protocol droid that bumbled past._

_Lord Burkisn had a wide range of servants in his household - approximately a third of them were slaves. Droids could do a slave's work, but weren't nearly as fashionable. House slaves were much harder to replace; you couldn't program them or fix them when they broke. They had to be taught. Fed. Like most pets: a potentially expensive long term investment._

_She bypassed the main study - where New Republic representatives were often hosted - and down a set of stairs into the lower levels of the house. Lord Burkisn's private study was well-cushioned and unassuming, but Elsi couldn't help but feel the very air had been tainted by the people that had been hosted there over the years._

_If you thought there was nothing worse than a nobleman that both owned slaves and had the gall to manipulate the New Republic system into letting him keep them - you'd be very wrong._

_The prospect of a baby was troubling. Why would Underworld entities have a baby in the first place? Let alone a sick baby? Even then, why the hell were they bringing it to HER? Surely they had deep enough pockets to buy their own doctors and nannies to care for it._

_She reached the polished oak door and took a moment to straighten out her cotton dress, ensuring she was prim and every hair was in its proper place. This gave her a moment to eavesdrop._

_The conversation came in bits and pieces, muddled by the door._

" _... Hays Minor. They won't…"_

" _...sold… from spice dealers on… delivery."_

" _We couldn't take it to… when it's…"_

_Lord Burkisn's voice rose above the others, shrill and irritated. "Where the hell is that damn nanny? I paid twelve thousand credits for that overpriced whore…"_

_Elsi grimaced, realizing that she'd already pushed her luck too far, and knocked._

" _Enter!"_

_Elsi eased her way into the room, head down with her eyes politely on her toes, hands folded chastely in front of her._

" _About fucking time," he swore at her, which wasn't out of the ordinary. However, it WAS uncharacteristic of him to do so in front of business associates. Lord Harl Burkisn was tall and on the back side of middle aged with charmingly light blue eyes, chestnut hair streaked with grey at the temples, and impeccable jawline; handsome, really. He took great pride in his appearance. His usual suave, put-togetherness was a huge part of his professional image. "What took so long?"_

_Elsi lowered her head further in the perfect imitation of shame. "I came as soon as I was told, sir."_

_He growled under his breath, "Hetta…"_

_Elsi did nothing to confirm or deny the inference._

_Thankfully, Burkisn moved on. He flicked his fingers to summon her closer. She obeyed without question._

_Though her eyes were down, she quickly surveyed the room through her eyelashes. Her master was accompanied by two other men, a human and a twi'lek. They were reasonably well-put together, but their dark, closefitting clothes suggested mercenaries, not anyone high-ranking. They were all looming around Lord Burkisn's desk, upon which sat a large metal storage container._

_Lord Burkisn led her to it and gestured for her to peer inside._

_When Hetta had said that there was a baby, Elsi had assumed that it would be the child of another nobleman - perhaps a bastard that they didn't want their spouse to know about and were secreting away to live somewhere else._

_She couldn't have been more wrong. Or confused._

_It was a child, alright. A tiny green baby with massive bat ears held flat against a dirty brown sack of an overcoat. It was short, squat, and unlike anything Elsi had seen before._

_The little creature was beyond pitiful; curled up in on itself like it was trying it's hardest to be swallowed up in the dirty sack that it wore, which was already much too big for it. It sat with its back to it's audience, pressing the front of its tiny green body into one corner of the box like it desperately wanted to hide._

_It was awfully, awfully still._

_Elsi's heart broke for it. She looked to her master for instructions._

_Lord Burkisn seemed troubled. "Can you care for it?"_

_Elsi didn't like making promises. "I've cared for many children."_

_He scoffed and dragged a hand through his hair, making it stick out in every direction. "Yes. Yes. But this one?"_

" _I don't see why not. But…" She hesitated. "Is it alive?"_

_Burkisn whipped back around to study the child more closely. His eyes glittered nervously as his less practiced gaze caught what Elsi had seen at once: the unnatural stillness, how quiet it was. Children weren't supposed to act like that._

_He turned and fixed the two couriers with a glare._

" _Err…" The twi'lek shuffled nervously, very much out of his comfort zone. "Should be…"_

" _When did you last check?"_

" _This mornin'," the human said defensively. "It's been sluggish since we got it, but it hasn't done much since midweek. It just sits and stares."_

" _What changed then?"_

" _Nothin'! We kept in the landspeeder, just like always - "_

" _On Hays Minor? It's freezing there! And you just left it in the speeder?" Burkisn accused, dark eyes thunderous with disgust. "This precious, EXPENSIVE asset? And you've treated it so carelessly? Can you even BEGIN to understand what they'll do to m… to YOU… if it perishes? Do you change it? When's the last time it had anything to eat? Have you bathed it recently?"_

_Rich, coming from a man that hadn't done any of those things for a child in his life. Elsi wasn't fooled by the righteous tirade. It had nothing to do with the baby's welfare._

" _Is it alive or not?" He went on to demand. He was worried. While coming to the 'rescue' of something valuable could be beneficial, having the asset die while under his roof would be very, very bad indeed._

_The courier closest to the crate reached out a gloved hand and gave the box a sharp shake. Elsi was no stranger to cruelty; her expression didn't change._

_The baby gave a barely audible squeak as it was loosened from its makeshift safe spot. Other than that, it's only response was to weakly shift to press its face back into its corner._

" _See?" The twi'lek said triumphantly. "It's alive."_

_The poor thing was half frozen. Lonely and terrified. No wonder it was sick._

_Elsi grit her teeth, anxious to be rid of the other adults so she could take over._

" _If it's sick, shouldn't we take it to a medical facility?" The human courier piped up. His eyes ghosted over Elsi's form appraisingly. "No offense, but why're we just giving it to a house slave?"_

_Burkisn sniffed. "You've lost the right to make those decisions. And do you think I'd let my daughter, my own flesh and blood, be cared for by any less than the best?" He prodded Elsi roughly in the shoulder. "Your credentials."_

_Elsi's collar felt tighter than usual. It was the same practiced spiel she'd given to potential buyers since she was twelve, and she delivered it with less emotion than a droid. "Educated by the Flirkgen Order of Servitude, First Class. I am trained in all forms of childcare from birth to adulthood, including, but not limited to: childbirth, nursing, emergency first aid, education, and nutrition. To date, I have cared for…"_

_Burkisn silenced her with a wave of his hand. "You see? We can't risk calling for a doctor, anyhow. The asset doesn't exactly blend in, does it? And if they found out it…"_

_He cut himself off. Elsi didn't bother wondering who 'they' were._

" _Can you care for it?" Burkisn repeated. "Nurse it back to health?"_

" _I'm not a doctor, master," Elsi said warily. She wouldn't know the full extent until she'd had a chance to look it over properly, but the poor creature already seemed half dead to her. "But I will certainly do my best."_

" _Good. It's settled." He clapped his hands with an air of finality. "You'll make it your top priority. All of your other duties are suspended till further notice."_

_That was fine by her, so long as she didn't have to be the one to tell Hetta. The child did NOT like sharing anything, especially the slaves that were at her beck and call. There were other childminder's in the household that were more than qualified to care for the master's child, but none of them were Elsi._

_Elsi bowed deep. "Yes, master."_

_We waved her away. "Take it, then. I'll inquire later as to your progress."_

_With a final curtsy, Elsi bustled forward and picked up the crate, closing the lid in hopes of making the little creature feel a little safer. The metal was icy cold against her skin. Without a moment to spare, she hurried out of the room._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

Elsi was exhausted.

The skin under her collar still burned, the already tender skin actively being rubbed raw by the collar every time she moved her head. Every muscle in her body threatened to give out at a moment's notice. She moved in constant fear that the next step would be the one to send her sprawling to the ground.

She wasn't sure she wanted to suffer that brand of embarrassment today. Not that she had much pride left after a lifetime of humiliation and servitude, but she already had enough to worry over.

She stumbled a few times, but didn't fall. She kept walking.

After several hours, their pace had begun to slow. With every step, a little of the strength she'd pretended to have was leached away. It took everything she had to put one foot in front of the other.

The Mandalorian didn't comment, but Elsi noticed how the brisk, utilitarian pace he'd originally set had dwindled to something that was clearly designed to accommodate her. She appreciated, yet hated it.

Being thought of as weak was usually a good thing. But it wasn't in this case because it was the truth. Being underestimated gave her an edge, one that - staring at the tattered, dirty cloak of the silent wall of armor that stalked silently ahead of her - she wished she still had.

The baby finally settled down, tired from the day. He sat in his bassinet, nibbling his cloth frog and peering out at the changing scenery. His dark eyes flickered as he sought out the lizards that occasionally darted across their path.

Elsi knew he must be getting hungry. She was, too. Their last shared meal had been that morning, and it was well into late afternoon now. Elsi was used to functioning on very little; years of being fed the bare minimum had taught her to ignore the empty gnawing in her gut.

She didn't want the baby to have to learn the same way she did, but had a feeling that the Mandalorian wanted to get somewhere specific before nightfall. The canyons weren't exactly the best place to spend the night. Too many places for an enemy to hide.

She would wait until then before asking for a brief respite to feed her charge.

As if to confirm her suspicions about the canyons, the Mandalorian suddenly came to a halt. He lifted a gloved hand, cautioning Elsi to do the same. It was unnecessary, of course, because she'd heard it as well.

A near-silent footstep. The soft _clink_ of a rock being kicked out of place and knocking into another. A quick, panted breath.

Then silence.

Elsi cast a warning glance at the baby, who didn't need to be directly told to stay silent. The adults' sudden tension was more than enough. He gripped his frog tighter.

Elsi watched the Mandalorian closely, taking note of the tension in his shoulders, waiting for some kind of signal.

She saw the Mandalorian's hand ghost over his blaster.

When the first bounty hunter exploded out of the shadows, Elsi was already on the move. While the Mandalorian met the threat, both of them, head on, Elsi made a beeline for the bassinet.

Sand flew as the sound of battle echoed throughout the narrow canyon. The baby whined when she scooped him into her arms. She hushed him, giving him a little reassuring bounce before slinking away from the conflict.

The baby cried out, distraught. He'd tried to take his frog with him, but dropped it. Elsi cast a glance backward to see it lying prone in the sand, only a few meters away from where the bounty hunters fought.

She went on, melting into the shadows and through a passage in the canyon walls. Worst case, she could make him another.

Elsi turned twice down different paths before deciding they'd gone far enough. She leaned her back against the stone, tucking them away in a dip in the rock face. The sounds of the fight had faded, leaving the pair washed in a heavy silence. Elsi struggled to quiet her breathing, which rasped loudly in her throat as she fought to catch her breath.

The baby buried his face against her chest and grumbled.

"Froggy's fine," she sighed, tipping her head back against the rock and closing her eyes. "We'll get him in a minute."

From what she'd seen, the Mandalorian had been holding his own fairly well, so hopefully they'd be able to go back to the bassinet in a few minutes. Not that she _wanted_ to go with the faceless hunter, but for now she preferred him to the others. At least she was almost certain that he didn't have any immediate plans for killing her or the baby.

Also, he had her fob. She couldn't go very far without it.

Suddenly, the Mandalorian was there. He appeared without warning, scaring the shit out of Elsi - though she'd never show it.

He was more or less unscathed except for a gash in his upper arm. It looked nasty, but he seemed unbothered.

His helmet ticked forward minutely. "You good?"

Elsi's response was collected and emotionless. "Yes."

The child chirruped to say that he was fine, too, thanks for asking.

The Mandalorian cocked his head slightly, then held something out to him. The baby's ears perked forward when he recognized the beloved patchwork frog sitting in the warrior's hand. He gave a squeal of delight and all but threw himself out of Elsi's arms to get it.

Elsi _almost_ dropped him, but was able to adjust fast enough to prevent him from falling. With a weary sigh, she moved to place the baby back in his bassinet, which still floated obediently at the Mandalorian's elbow.

The baby hummed happily and snuggled down in his blankets, squishing Froggy against his cheek.

Elsi's quick eyes went back to the gash on the Mandalorian's arm, then lowered submissively, fixing on the diamond shaped indent on his cuirass. "Your injury looks painful. I can dress it, if it pleases you."

His shoulders settled back; in surprise, Elsi thought.

"It's fine," he rasped. "We need to keep moving."

Elsi didn't argue.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_Despite the awkwardness of the box, Elsi took the steps of the narrow servants' staircase two at a time, doing her best not to jostle the baby._

_She winced and murmured an apology when she accidentally bumped it against a wall as she turned a corner, feeling the occupant slide from one corner to another._

_Elsi bumped the door to her room open with her hip, and then closed it with her foot. As the head child-minder of a prestigious household, she had been granted her own quarters. She was still a slave, so it wasn't much: a small bed, a fireplace, a couple of chairs, a minuscule refresher, and a table that was covered with her current sewing projects._

_She swept the half-finished articles of clothing off the table without a second thought, no longer caring if they got trampled and dirty, then sat the crate gingerly in their place._

_Finally alone, Elsi flipped open the lid. Now she was closer, she caught a whiff of what could only have been the child; an unpleasant mix of bodily waste and mildew._

_A distraught sigh hissed between her teeth. Elsi cautiously moved to pick up the baby._

_The baby seemed to know she was coming and pressed itself more firmly into the corner. She crouched beside the table so that she was level with the box, reaching out tentatively towards the cowering child to smooth the fuzz on the back of its head._

_The baby squeaked weakly, somehow succeeding in making itself look smaller. Elsi recoiled. Time was at the essence, but the last thing it needed was to be frightened even more._

" _It's okay," Elsi hummed in her most reassuring voice, the same tried-and-true one used to soothe nightmares. She settled back just enough to kneel in the chair and rested her forearms on the edge of the crate._

_The baby whined._

" _Hey, hey. Shhh," she murmured, reaching out again and brushing her knuckles gently down the baby's spine. It quivered. She repeated the motion, "It's okay. You're okay. Shh."_

_The baby gave a plaintive squeak that was muffled by the side of the crate._

" _Yeah, I know you're cold," she crooned. "Will you let me warm you up?"_

_The baby didn't comment, but it did turn its head, daring to peer at her with dark, watery eyes. Elsi noted the crusty discharge that had dried at the corners. Then the dampness of its nose._

" _Can I hold you?" She asked, holding out her hands to it expectantly._

_The baby squeezed its eyes shut._

_Elsi figured that it was the closest thing to permission she was going to get. She gingerly wrapped her fingers around the baby's middle and lifted. He weighed next to nothing; she could wrap her hands all the way around him. She immediately transferred him to her chest, tucking his fuzzy head under her chin. Tiny claws curled into the fabric covering her collarbones._

_Holding him in place with one hand, she bustled around the room, humming softly for the baby's sake as she unearthed cloth diapers, towels, and wash rags._

_She took the supplies to the refresher, where she spread out one of the towels on the counter next to the sink, which she then filled partway with warm water. The child was far too small to consider using the tub._

_Careful to cradle his head, Elsi eased the baby down on the counter. His sallow green skin stood out starkly against the fluffy white towel. The child stared up at her blankly through half-closed eyes._

" _We're gonna get you clean, m'kay? The water's nice and warm for you. Then maybe you'll feel a little better. That sound good?" She explained to him kindly, but he only blinked in response._

_The baby was heartbreakingly easy to manipulate out of his clothes, making her suspect that he was used to being handled roughly. She made a point to be as gentle as possible._

" _Do you like bubbles?"_

_Before his bath, Elsi wiped him down and checked for injuries. He didn't react much to the water, leaning heavily into the hand that was keeping him propped up while she smoothed his skin with the gentlest soap she had and ran a kitten-soft washcloth over his ears._

_After, she wrapped him in a small clean blanket instead of redressing him. His tiny robes would need to be cleaned before she would even consider putting them on him again, and even then, they were past use._

_She would make him others, but that would take some time._

_She laid him against her chest, lifting one of his little three-fingered hands to her lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. Elsi toed off her shoes and settled down on her bed. The baby snuffled a little, but otherwise stayed quiet as she tugged the other blanket over top of them both._

_He felt much warmer now, at least. Elsi nuzzled the top of his head, breathing in the gentle smell of flowers from the soap. The baby mumbled softly before blinking his eyes closed._

_It didn't take long for him to fall asleep. Elsi rubbed her hand up and down his back. Pressed kisses to the top of his head. Stoked his ears. Hummed a lullaby. Then another._

_It seemed that he had given up, but children could be dazzlingly resilient. As awful as he seemed now, he could be up and playing in a day or two. She'd seen it before. Hopefully, a little love and attention would be enough to breathe a little life back into the poor little runt._

_She wasn't optimistic, but that wouldn't stop her from trying._

_**~0~0~0~** _

.

The trio walked well into the evening, not stopping until the canyons were far behind them and they were surrounded by nothing but flat, rocky plains.

Elsi saw the logic. Out here, nothing could sneak up on them. The Mandalorian would see or hear anything a long time before it became an active threat.

Though she appreciated the strategic value of the decision, she loathed the bounty hunter for forcing them to travel so far before resting.

The last of the sun's rays were fading below the horizon, painting the desert in a myriad of lovely violet hues. The Mandalorian chose a flat-ish expanse of rock to kneel down, producing a collapsible lantern. He set it down at the center of the space and turned it on, casting them all in an orange glow.

"We'll camp here tonight."

Music to Elsi's ears. She all but collapsed to the ground, disguising her exhaustion as productivity by immediately starting to dig through the russack bag. She found the water and two jerky ration packs that she and the baby would share. She uncorked the water and drank, nursing it to make it last.

"Muu?"

The last few hours had them walking directly into the setting sun, prompting Elsi to close the bassinet shutters so as to offer the baby some shade. He'd been quiet for the most part, but now that they'd stopped moving, he seemed to have enough reason to draw attention to the fact that he still was still secluded.

"Muuuu?" _Muu?_ A soft, drawn-out squeaky sound, always turned up at the end like a question. It was the baby's name for his caretaker. It was cute, really. So much better than _Nan_.

Elsi forced herself back to her feet, ignoring the screaming of her aching muscles in favor of retrieving the baby. When the shutters peeled away, he rewarded Elsi with a wide, toothy grin.

Mood slightly improved, she got him out, but also tugged the bassinet over to where she'd been sitting: away from the Mandalorian.

The baby trilled conversationally at the bounty hunter, who continued ignoring him. In the time it had taken Elsi to get the baby and sit back down, the Mandalorian had removed his cuirass and sat prodding at its inner workings with a tool from his belt.

The baby was entranced by the occasional shower of sparks tossed into the air as the Mandalorian worked, but not so much that he was distracted from consuming every morsel of food Elsi placed in his greedy little hands.

She figured that she ought to hurry. While she was no expert on Mandalorians, she was vaguely aware of the limitations regarding the helmet. He hadn't been able to eat or drink all day, and while Elsi didn't really care much for his welfare, she knew she would if he became frustrated and decided to take it out on her. He could also die from heatstroke, which would essentially trap her and the baby in the middle of the desert.

Until a better option presented itself, he was their best bet.

Elsi didn't give two shits about seeing his face. She had better things to worry about than satisfying basic curiosity - especially curiosity that could end with him killing her out of rage. If he simply asked her to not look, she wouldn't. As her (temporary?) owner, he could also _order_ her not to look, and she'd have no choice but to obey.

But she didn't think he would do either. The Mandalorian would probably wait until they'd both fallen asleep to remove his helmet; which was absolutely no problem for Elsi - she was already half-asleep sitting up. The baby was a little trickier. Elsi would have to make sure he was asleep before settling down herself.

Luckily, the baby hadn't slept much throughout the day. By the time he finished eating, he was snuggling into Elsi's shoulder, making the soft little grumbling noises he made when he was tired.

Elsi hummed to him, soft enough that only he could hear, rubbing his back in time with the melody. It was an old slave song, one she distantly remembered her mother singing for her when she was fussy and small.

The humming also kept the baby from hearing the sounds that the Mandalorian was making. Forgoing Elsi's offer to clean and dress the wound on his arm, he'd settled on cauterizing it with the same tool he was using to repair his armor.

It looked painful. She almost insisted that he stop and let her tend him, but then remembered that she didn't care.

Elsi tucked the sleeping baby in the bassinet, ensuring he was snuggly wrapped in his blankets and clutching his stuffed frog before she closed the shutters.

Confident that he would sleep through the night, Elsi lay down on the stony ground with the russack bag tucked under her head. Mindful to keep her back to the Mandalorian, she allowed her exhausted and abused body to finally rest.

_**~0~0~0~** _

**_._ **


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Since you guys have been so patient, heres a nice long 10,000 word chapter. Also some smut. Be kind bc this is my first time writing this kind of sexual situation.
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Smut. Slavery and associated themes. Anxiety. Emotional despondency.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Three** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

Elsi woke with a start. The baby was less than an inch from her face. He cooed and grinned toothily, reaching out with his little hand to pat her hair affectionately and showering her face with sand.

She huffed and pushed herself into a sitting position, biting back a groan of effort as her muscles screamed and ached in protest after the full day of grueling activity followed by a night on the unforgiving ground. The sun was just below the horizon, washing the sky in pink and red, promising another hot, cloudless day.

The Mandalorian, of course, was already awake. He sat more or less where he had the night before - his cuirass back in place and in the process of collapsing the little lantern and returning it to his belt. The gash on his arm was still red and the cloth around it stiff with dried blood.

Elsi imagined that, if she were closer, she'd be able to see that the flesh was twisted and singed until sealed. It would leave an ugly scar. But she doubted he cared about something as trivial as appearance.

His helmet tilted up at her. "We need to get moving."

Elsi dipped her head in acknowledgment, easing herself to her feet and picking up the baby to place him back in the bassinet. The baby grumbled, his ears drooping when it became clear that today was to be another day of riding. He wanted to walk and explore, she was sure. She wasn't particularly thrilled either.

The Mandalorian stood and shouldered his rifle, but waited while Elsi paused to dig through her russack bag.

She found a strip of fabric that she had been saving in case the baby needed something new made. It was cream colored cotton, thick and tough. She shook it out and wrapped the widest part over the top of her head before tying the ends under her chin - resulting in a makeshift bonnet. Despite having spent the majority of the day before in the shade of the canyons, her cheeks were tight and warm from the sun. The bonnet wasn't perfect, but she was hopeful that it would at least help a little.

Seeing that she was ready, the Mandalorian gave her a curt nod and led the way farther into the endless expanse of rock and sand.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_The baby wasn't getting better._

_If anything, she worried he was getting worse. All he did was sleep, and it was getting harder and harder to wake him. When he did manage to wake up, he simply gazed at her through lidded, foggy eyes. Sometimes he would whimper or grumble, but otherwise he stayed deathly silent._

_Even worse, he wouldn't eat. Elsi tried everything. Milk. Fruits. Vegetables. Soups. Meats. Grains. She had the best luck with a hearty meat stew made in the house kitchens. When she smeared some of the grease across his lower lip, he stirred just enough to lick it off, then proceeded to swallow down one small chunk of meat and chewed at another for a while before drifting back to sleep with it still between his teeth._

_Elsi did absolutely everything she could for him. She dipped a clean cloth in water and wet his lips to try and entice him to drink; she regularly cleaned and medicated his diaper sores; she talked to him; held him in her arms at all times._

_Nothing worked. She feared he was slipping away._

_With the baby swaddled tightly to her chest in a sling, she brought him with her into the gardens, hoping some sunlight and fresh air would do him good._

_They sat together in Elsi's spot by the stream, basking in a patch of sunlight while Elsi's nimble fingers worked on mending and patching the holes and worn spots in the baby's overcoat._

_While she worked, her conversation she'd had with her Master earlier that morning rang through her mind:_

_**~0~** _

" _Will he recover?"_

" _Like I said before: I'm not a doctor."_

" _You've cared for sick children before."_

" _Human children, mostly. Some Devaronians. A few Zygerrians. I've never seen anything like him before."_

" _But if he was a human child, would you expect him to survive?"_

" _No, I wouldn't." Silence fell between them._

_She went on. "But he isn't a human baby. Human babies are relatively fragile when you compare them to other species. He could be stronger."_

" _Or weaker."_

" _Yes."_

_He heaved a sigh. "When will we know for certain?"_

" _I can't really say. From experience, though, if he is going to die, it'll probably happen in the next 24 hours. If he makes it to nightfall tomorrow, I'd say he has a pretty good shot at pulling through."_

_**~0~** _

_Elsi tied off the thread and snipped it with her tiny sewing scissors. The patch was smooth and almost indistinguishable from the rest of the coat, which had been religiously cleaned and disinfected. It was good work, but there was a certain point where a garment would look worn and ratty no matter how much love her talented hands poured into it._

_It would have to do for now. She wasn't sure if there was any point in going through the trouble of making him an entirely new coat._

_Elsi pressed a kiss to the top of his fuzzy head._

" _I'll make you a deal," she murmured against the wrinkled skin. "Make it, and I'll make you a dozen new coats. Fine, black market fabrics. The best. People will think you're the son of a king."_

_The baby stayed silent._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

The baby was singing to himself.

It was tuneless, and despite the lack of a pattern or rhythm, it was unmistakably a song.

It was something he did when he was happy, and Elsi couldn't bear to ask him to stop, especially since it didn't seem to be bothering the Mandalorian, who was either amused by it or tuning it out.

As long as he wasn't annoyed, everything was fine.

They walked until the sun burned high above their heads. It was hotter than the day before, but Elsi was feeling decently better after resting, and their little group was able to cover more ground in a shorter amount of time.

The dry flats melded into rocky hills. Elsi's thighs burned as they picked their way up a particularly steep slope. Her head was down, focusing on placing one foot in front of the other so she didn't slip on the loose stones, so she didn't realize that the Mandalorian had stopped until she walked straight into him.

He paid her no mind, taking another step forward and kneeling, swinging the rifle around from his back. Taking the cue, Elsi crouched low beside the bassinet and surveyed the scene before her.

In the valley below sat a great, hulking sandcrawler. Although they were still a fair distance away, Elsi didn't need the Mandalorian's scope to recognize Jawas when she saw them. They swarmed the area like termites, picking apart the dried bones of what had once been a ship.

Elsi's heart sank. She had been banking on the Mandalorian to get them off-world, but now that didn't seem like it would happen. She was so annoyed that she didn't feel much in the way of pity when a few of the little menaces vanished in puffs of smoke, meeting their untimely ends at the end of the Mandalorian's rifle.

The Jawas' screams of alarm echoed through the air, carried to Elsi's ears by the scant breeze. They scrambled to return to the safety of their fortress under the inadequate cover fire of the few that had blasters. They were firing at random, so none of the shots came close.

Another disintegrated on the spot.

The crawler roared to life, crushing the little pole structure the scavengers had set up to catalogue the parts as its massive treads churned up the ground beneath it.

The Mandalorian didn't say anything, but Elsi could see the outrage in the set of the bounty hunter's shoulders.

Realizing what he was about to do - however illogical she thought it to be - Elsi scooped the baby from his bassinet and held him while the Mandalorian took off down the slope, skidding and sliding on the loose dirt and sprinting headlong after the crawling fortress, the now-empty bassinet trailing behind.

Elsi patted the baby's back. Together, they watched as the crawler ate up the distance until both it - and the Mandalorian - disappeared from sight.

The baby tilted his face up at her and chirped. A question.

"No idea," Elsi sighed, more to herself than to him. "He's crazy-crazy, huh?"

The baby waggled his ears like he understood.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

Elsi sat on the open ramp of the Mandalorian's ship, watching as the baby shuffled around the wreckage, hunting for bugs. He caught one every now and then, and Elsi's stomach turned uncomfortably every time he popped up with one in his mouth, and again when he crunched it between his teeth.

She had no idea if the bizarre little creature's choice in snacks was good for him or not, but was willing to assume that it was probably fine. He'd eaten much, much worse than a few beetles and never seemed to suffer any ill effects.

The time he ate a baby snake was probably the worst - to her, if not to him. Just thinking about it still made bile rise in her throat. It had been small; nose to tail, the length of a human palm. The child had held it up in his tiny three fingered hand… crunched its skull between his teeth…

Down it went, slurped down like a noodle, still wiggling in its death throes.

Elsi had been too horrified to stop him. By the time she realized what was happening, the snake was gone and the baby was grinning up at her with all the innocence of a cherub that _hadn't_ just killed and eaten something that probably _should not_ have been.

She'd panicked, worried that it had been venomous and would bite him or something on the way down. But nothing ever came of it.

It was times like that she wished she knew at least _something_ about his species - at least whether or not his choice in diet was normal.

She shook those thoughts away, instead forcing a smile when the baby toddled up to her, waving a rather large winged bug around in his fist for her approval.

"Good job!" She praised, though her smile transformed into a grimace when the half-dead insect met the same untimely end as the dozen or so others the baby had consumed in the last half hour.

The Mandalorian had been gone a while. Elsi was starting to worry. They were already screwed without a ship, but she was hopeful that the bounty hunter would have a better idea than 'wander around in the desert and hope you find someone kind enough to take pity.

Which was what Elsi would be forced to resort to, should the Mandalorian get himself killed.

Then again…

More bounty hunters were probably on their way. But relying on them was a gamble. The Mandalorian had made it reasonably clear that he meant to keep them alive, but she knew that there were others who would kill them both to save themselves the trouble.

She could also probably track down the Jawas. Maybe they would be interested in some kind of trade. She didn't have much to offer, but a ride to the nearest settlement shouldn't be too much to ask. Jawas could be fairly accommodating, if you knew how to get on their good side.

And… well… if the Mandalorian _was_ dead, then she felt that it wasn't _too_ calloused to bargain with his armor. Needs must, and all. At least a few pieces of it were bound to be real beskar, which would be more than enough to see her and the baby safe passage to civilization - hopefully further - if she could keep at least some from the Jawas. All she would have to do was hope that she found the body before they did…

All those thoughts were dashed when the Mandalorian rounded the end of the hull. She could help but be a little impressed at how quiet his approach had been - she wasn't easy to sneak up on.

Although still alive, he'd definitely taken a beating. He was favoring his left leg and carried a stiffness in his back and shoulders - only partially due to frustration.

He said nothing to Elsi when he reached them, his helmet turning briefly to locate the kid before climbing the ramp and vanishing inside what was left of his ship.

Wise from experience, Elsi made sure to stay out of his way. She took the baby a little farther away from the hull, sitting on an empty box and amusing him with his stuffed frog, which had returned with the Mandalorian and bassinet, all the while listening to the distant clangs and curses as the Mandalorian examined the damage firsthand.

It wasn't pretty. Everything that was worth having was gone. She was by no means an engineer, but she didn't have to be to know that the vessel wasn't getting off the ground, let alone off the planet.

She needed to figure out the Mandalorian's Plan B before coming up with her own.

She was both frustrated and relieved when the Mandalorian finally stomped back down the ramp, still angry, but moving with purpose.

"We need to move," was the only explanation he offered. His tone was terse. Clipped. Absolutely no room for discussion or questions.

He barely waited for Elsi to put the baby back in the bassinet and shoulder their belongings before he was striding back out into the desert.

The baby groaned, giving voice to the sentiments that Elsi would never dare say out loud.

More walking.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

They arrived just as the last of the sun's rays were slipping below the horizon. The destination turned out to be a small homestead. It was a meek little farm: moisture collectors, a few of the small rounded patchwork metal huts that could often be found on desert planets, a work shed, and a few paddocks containing some large, bizarre reptilian beasts that Elsi had never seen before.

The walk there had been grueling. Out in the open desert, they hadn't had the benefit of walking in shaded canyons, and while it was only three, maybe four hours of travel, the Mandalorian hadn't exactly been accommodating in terms of breaks. The pace he'd set was brisk, and Elsi had gotten the distinct impression that if she was left behind - then that was her problem.

He hadn't spoken once the entire trip, but that was fine by her. She'd needed to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, anyhow.

The baby, blessedly, had been good. As much as he didn't like riding, he was content to sit quietly and watch the scenery and - when he got bored with dry, cracked rocks - the Mandalorian, who seemed to be his new role model. He would tilt his little head to survey the landscape as the hunter did, and when there were no behaviors to mimic, he would sit and watch, his eyes moving with the sway of the Mandalorian's cloak.

_The little traitor._

Under different circumstances, it might've been cute. Elsi didn't see the appeal. But, then again, she hadn't been asked.

The Mandalorian seemed familiar with the homestead. He didn't hesitate to stride straight in, bypassing the main hut and making for one of the moisture collectors. Elsi was quick to see why. Up on the collector's rickety maintenance platform was a short man. He had his back to them, but she assumed that he wasn't human.

"I thought you were dead," he addressed the Mandalorian without turning, managing to sound wholly indifferent and paternally disappointed at the same time.

The Mandalorian came to a stop at the base of the collector. The bounty hunter's helmet tilted, but he didn't respond.

Elsi stayed to the side and slightly behind - out of the way without hiding, her hands folded politely in front of her and settled her eyes just below the average eyeline - submissive without cowering.

The man turned to level the strange little group with a scowl. He was an Ugnaught, she realized, noting the squat stature, deep set eyes, and somewhat squashed face through the filter of her eyelashes. The Ugnaught's frown deepened when his eyes flickered across Elsi.

"And you've brought another guest," the Ugnaught added, starting to climb down the ladder to greet them.

"Meeya! Muu? Eh!" The baby, a tad over excited about a toad hopping about the base of the collector, scrambled out of his blankets. He clambered over the edge of the bassinet, much quicker than he had any right to be.

Elsi lunged to catch him, but the Mandalorian was closer and faster. A gloved hand flashed out, snagging the child by the robes the same instant he tumbled into thin air.

The baby dangled there for a moment, suspended by the back of his overcoat. The Mandalorian stared down at him, expressionless mask angled in such a way that it gave the impression of mild bemusement. The baby laughed, clapping his little hands like this was the best game and kicking his feet as if he hoped to swim in midair.

Carefully, the Mandalorian eased him to the ground, making sure to set the little creature on his feet and steadying him when his balance wavered. The baby giggled and waddled after the flopping toad.

The bounty hunter shot her a glance, as if confirming that setting the child down had been the correct thing to do.

Elsi, having regained her composure, remained expressionless as her eyes trailed after her charge. She didn't trust him to not wander through the wire fence of the nearest pen. Although they looked clumsy, the beasts were big and had the long, jagged teeth of predators. It would take very little for the baby to get crushed underfoot or eaten.

Upon the lack of rebuttal (like she would dare to offer one), the Mandalorian turned his attention to his right vambrace, which had been sparking with electricity off and on throughout the day. It had already been damaged before Elsi had met him, but based on the aggravated way he'd been fiddling with it, she assumed that the jagged, twisted gash in the rust red steel was fairly new.

By that point, the Ugnaught had made it down the ladder. He waddled by, movements stiff with age, bypassing them in favor of adding a bucket of water to the trough just inside the giant reptile's pen.

The baby was still shuffling after the toad. The Ugnaught looked down at him appraisingly.

"This was what was causing all the fuss?" He scoffed, sounding baffled, but not unkind.

"It's a child," the Mandalorian explained offhandedly.

The Ugnaught nodded gravely, looking between the hunter and Elsi. "And its caretaker, I presume."

Elsi inclined her head to confirm, but stayed silent.

The Ugnaught grunted in acknowledgment before addressing the Mandalorian, passing him a delicate screwdriver for his vambrace. "The bounty you seek is for both child and slave?"

The Mandalorian didn't look up from his vambrace. "Yes."

That was news to Elsi. The child was the valuable one, she was just an extra commodity - the thing the child's new owners decided to buy/appropriate so they didn't have to care for him themselves. She was useful and convenient, but never valuable enough for any bounty.

"Better to bring them in alive, then." The Ugnaught concluded. He took a few of his shuffling steps to stand before Elsi.

When he stuck out both of his gloved hands to take hers, Elsi complied just a tad bit too quickly. No hesitation. Instinctual obedience. After doing it, she knew that it was a mistake. The Ugnaught's eyes glittered knowingly - with sadness and understanding.

She knew what else he saw that others might not. The slight crookedness in her once-straight nose from where it had been broken more than once. The thin, silvery scars around her right eye and cheekbone where a mistress had thrown a broken glass in her face. Her hands, too. They also bore a thin scattering of scars under the thick calluses worn by a lifetime of labor. She knew that if he removed his gloves, his would look the same.

She didn't like it - being known. It hurt.

The Ugnaught squeezed her hands in what was supposed to be reassurance. She knew he meant well, but Elsi had to grit her teeth to keep from pulling out of his gentle grasp.

"I am Kuiil," he declared. "You are my guest. Here, you are slave to no one. I have spoken."

She'd met people like Kuiil before. She appreciated them - the ones who'd made their own freedom. But slavery wasn't something that could be turned on and off at will. It just was, or wasn't.

Elsi was saved from having to scrape up a faux heartfelt response by the Mandalorian.

"Hey… is that…"

Elsi whipped around just in time to see the toad go into the baby's mouth. This time she wasn't able to mask her distaste as he swallowed it whole, flailing legs and all.

"...normal?" The Mandalorian finished, radiating the disgust that they couldn't see on his face.

Elsi didn't stop the sigh that hissed between her teeth. "Yes."

Kuiil chuffed, waving the scene away. "You will rest here tonight. You are weary from your travels."

The Mandalorian stabbed at his vambrace with the screwdriver moodily while Elsi went to scoop up the baby. "My ship has been destroyed by Jawas. I'm trapped here."

Kuiil gestured them along. "Stripped. Jawas steal. They do not destroy."

"Stripped or destroyed, makes no difference to me," the hunter groused, ducking into the doorway of the main hut. "They're protected by the crawling fortress. There's no way to recover the parts."

Kuiil's home was what you expected a desert-dwelling hermit's space to look like. The ceiling was low, so low that even Elsi had to duck down to keep from banging her head. It was utilitarian and cramped, every available space covered with spare tools and appliances that could prove useful to someone who only had himself to depend upon in the desert. Despite the clutter, everything was neat and organized, and Elsi found it homey.

Elsi ducked in behind the two men, keeping a respectful distance from them both. The baby let out a little trill, full and content in her arms. She hushed him, tucking him against her chest as she took in their new surroundings. The Mandalorian had already moved to sit on a low stool along the wall.

Elsi wavered for a moment, wanting to be out of the way and not take up anyone else's space. She elected to sit on a storage box a short distance from them, content to rock the dozy baby and listen as the two men continued to talk.

"You can trade."

"With Jawas? Are you out of your mind?"

"I will take you to them," the Ugnaught declared, moving to the stove and starting the beginnings of a meal. "I have spoken."

Elsi actually heard the Mandalorian's teeth click as he bit back a retort. She knew as well as he did that there weren't any better alternatives.

Silence fell between them as Kuiil made them a simple, but wholesome meal of porridge and meat. The baby decided that he wasn't ready to sleep just yet and insisted on being put down. Elsi fetched one of his toys - a length of yarn tied to a small wooden ball - out of her bag and he was happy to sit by her feet and roll it back and forth across the toe of her shoes.

Kuiil served Elsi first, another considerate gesture that made her extremely nervous. She had already been uncomfortable watching their host prepare a meal and doing nothing to help. She hid it the best she could - which was extremely well - thanking him and moving to sit at the small table against the wall.

The Mandalorian didn't seem to notice or care that he'd been slighted, standing up to accept his meal and taking it with him to the back of the hut, vanishing behind a threadbare curtain that separated the front room from the back.

"Mandalorians value their privacy," Kuiil commented as he settled across from her at the table.

"Yes," was all Elsi had to say.

"I'm curious about the child," he said, direct and to the point. "How is it that he fell into the care of a slave woman?"

Elsi swallowed her food politely before answering. It was both sweet and savory. Absolutely delicious. It had been a long time since she'd eaten anything outside of the ration packs that were thrown in her direction and she had to school herself to keep from scarfing it all down at once.

"The master I was serving was part of an Underworld chain," she explained, honest but near emotionless. "I was the head-childminder of the household. The child was ill and in need of nursing. When it was time for him to be moved again, I was sold to his next keeper, and so on."

Kuiil nodded seriously. "I've paid out my clan's dept. I too know what it is to be bartered and sold." An indentured servant. She wasn't at all surprised. "What is your name?"

It had been a long time since anyone had asked that. After leaving Lord Burkisn's household, she hadn't needed one.

"Elsi Nokk." It sounded strange to her own ears, like it belonged to someone else.

"Elsi Nokk," the Ugnaught echoed. "How long have you lived in servitude?"

"Always."

"Your parents, then, as well?"

"My mother." Elsi was long past feeling awkward about speaking about her history. It was pathetic, she knew, and it made others uncomfortable. But it was her past, and she didn't want to live ashamed of her entire life. "I never knew a father."

"Is your mother still alive?"

"Doubtful." In truth, her mother was long dead. There were channels through which slaves could communicate. Elsi had used them when she was in her teens - hoping to locate her long-lost mother, only to find heartbreak.

"You don't know?"

She did, but she didn't really want to talk about it. "We were separated when I was small."

"How many masters have you served?" Even though she didn't mind being asked such questions, she felt that Kuiil was leading up to something. Trying to make a point, one that was important enough for him to have forgotten about his porridge, which was growing cold.

"Many."

Kuiil nodded again. Dead serious. "And what master do you now serve?"

There it was. It was the same question that had been nagging at the back of her head since they'd left the compound.

The answer? The Mandalorian. He had her fob.

Technically.

But Elsi sensed that that answer was the wrong one. She hadn't missed the way the bounty hunter acted around her. He would scarcely look her in the eye. Wouldn't address her unless absolutely necessary.

She made him uncomfortable.

He would never claim a slave.

The other technical answer? Whoever the Mandalorian was delivering them to. But that wasn't solid, either. It was doubtful that they were necessarily expecting a slave to be delivered. She was a fairly pricey utility, but not near expensive enough to negate hiring a bounty hunter to find her, especially not a Mandalorian.

No. They wanted the child and his caretaker. Not a slave.

Kuiil wouldn't be asking that question if he hadn't already weighed all the available options. She didn't doubt that he'd come to the same conclusions she had.

The Ugnaught was waiting for her answer so he could pick apart her train of thought - to push her to make a bid for freedom.

She wanted to scream at him. Wanted to tell him that it didn't matter whether she wore a collar or not, because her fate was the same - care for the baby. His captors would be hers - slave or not - and he shouldn't dangle the concept of pseudo-freedom over her head.

She'd done the mental math during the walk across the desert. After considering the things she'd overhead in Lord Burkisn's house and the things she'd learned since, she had a pretty good idea of who wanted the baby.

Everyone was a slave in the eyes of Imps.

But she didn't say any of this, of course. She stayed honest, though, both to herself and the kind Ugnaught.

"I'm the child's caretaker," she said evenly. "I go where he goes."

The baby sat his butt down heavily on her foot. He leaned back against her leg, rubbing his face into her skirt and cooing. It was almost time for bed.

Kuiil grunted, but it was hard to tell if it was in disappointment, aggravation, or something else entirely. Instead of pressing the point, he nodded to her now empty bowl.

"You are finished," he narrated, sticking his hand out for the dish. "I will clean it. You will tidy yourself and your child in the bathhouse. Then you will rest."

"Please," Elsi added as she stood, mindful of the sleepy toddler still attached to her ankle. "Allow me to tidy away the meals. You've been such a gracious host."

"You are my guest. I have spoken."

That ended that. She'd wanted to argue, and if it wasn't for the exhaustion creeping in her bones, she might have. Another time, maybe. Instead, she took directions to the bathhouse and picked up the baby, who squeaked and buried his little face in her neck.

Night had fallen across the desert, velvet and deep. Stars glistened overhead like ice crystals. The security lights were warm and soft, but lit the homestead well enough to see where everything was. The giant reptiles snuffled around in their pen, no more than great shadows hulking in the dark.

The bathhouse was exactly that - a shed with a tub sized basin, a sink, a sonic shower, a vac-tube, and an overhead faucet for showers.

Elsi couldn't make herself use enough of Kuiil's limited water supply to take a bath or a water shower, so she placed the baby on the counter beside the sink while she stripped and allowed herself to stand under the sonic shower just long enough to rid herself of the dirt and sweat of the past two days. The child was sleepy and was content to sit and wait the five or so minutes it took for her to wash and redress.

Then she filled the sink partway with water and bathed the baby. He whined about it quite a bit, but knew better than to fight it.

"I know, baby. I know," she murmured sympathetically. "You can sleep soon."

"Eep!"

"That's not my fault. You could've napped today."

"Merwlp. Muu? Gah!"

"I don't know. Maybe you can play more tomorrow. We might be traveling again."

"Eee."

"Maybe it won't be too bad. You might see some Jawas."

"Oohwah. Buurrr!"

"I'm sure Mando will be around. And Kuiil."

They talked like this a lot. It was as much for the baby's development as it was for her sanity, as it had been a long time since she'd had anyone else to talk to. She'd missed adult conversation. Perhaps her next talk with Kuiil would be on a more pleasant topic. Maybe she would ask about the giant reptiles...

But for now, baby talk would have to do. Their conversation continued as she finished toweling off his ears and redressed him before stepping out into the night, not letting the rusty metal door bang behind her.

"Mmmwah!"

"Yeah, I saw that toad you ate. It was disgusting."

"Mmmmm."

"As long as you liked it. It would've been awful if you hadn't."

They were rounding the side of the main hut. Elsi froze at the sound of voices drifting through the rounded walls. The tones were tense. Clipped. Elsi held her finger to her lips to silence the child and leaned in to listen. She'd long given up any moral aversion to eavesdropping. To her, it was a survival skill.

"They're bounties," the Mandalorian snapped. "It's a job. I follow the Guild Code."

"You're a man of honor." Kuiil tried to placate, but his frustration bled through his words.

"But?"

They were talking about her and the child. She clutched him tighter to her chest and inched forward to peer through one of the foggy glass windows dotting the hut's patchwork steel walls, using the darkness to her advantage. She could just make out the shapes of the two people inside. The Mandalorian was standing, hunched against the low ceiling with his hands fisted at his sides. Kuiil stood before him, gesturing for emphasis.

It was the tail end of the argument, but there was more than enough left to guess what the rest of it had been.

"You possess a slave."

"I don't deal in slaves," the Mandalorian bit. His shoulders were squared. Offended.

"Is that not her fob attached to your belt?"

The Mandalorian stiffened.

Silence fell, thick as tar and twice as sticky. Elsi's blood roared in her ears. She was flustered - maybe just a tad bit angry. Kuiil hadn't been able to convince her to make a bid for her freedom, so he'd taken it upon himself to do it on her behalf.

The Mandalorian's hand went to his belt. Elsi braced for the pain she intellectually knew wouldn't come. He held the control fob carefully in his palm, considering it.

When the Mandalorian didn't fill the silence, the Ugnaught did.

"I assume her previous masters now lie dead in the compound. Deliver her to your client, and she will belong to them," he elaborated, gentler now, but stern. "Until then, she obeys the one who controls the collar around her neck."

Another beat passed. The Mandalorian placed the fob gingerly on the table, like it might blow up in his face if he wasn't careful.

"I… I didn't…" When the Mandalorian found his voice, it came rough through the vocoder, barely audible through the metal wall. "If I'd realized… It's been two days. I would never..."

Elsi was surprised at how shaken he sounded, but not as surprised as how distant she felt from herself and their conversation. Her emotions didn't swirl in her gut. They were packed away and thrown out, leaving her fuzzy and numb.

So Kuiil's next sentence didn't affect her as much as it should've.

"If you have no complaints, I can remove it."

"Would she then be free?" The Mandalorian asked sharply.

Kuiil picked up the fob with great care, turning it over in his hands and studying it. "I believe that the collar is the only physical bind. But I will ask."

"Aren't slaves normally chipped?"

"Many slaves are chipped," Kuiil explained. "Those who aren't are often collared. House slaves, mostly - those of wealthy masters who pay to send the slave to conditioning facilities to train them and increase their value. At that point, chips are considered unnecessary."

_If you have to chip your slaves, they haven't been broken properly._

Elsi shoved her "Councilor's" cruel voice out of her head. It had been many years, but she could still hear her mocking laugh.

"She's my bounty, not my slave," the Mandalorian said firmly. "If you can remove it, feel free to do so."

She'd heard enough. Elsi was confused. Confused by her own emotions. Confused about why they thought it would make a difference. But most importantly, upset that the conversation and subsequent decision had taken place without her.

Despite her buzzing mind, Elsi knew better than to be caught eavesdropping. Silent as a cat, she slunk back to the bathhouse. She opened the heavy door again, but this time let it close with its full weight. The resulting slam echoed across the small farm. From there, she ambled back across the lot, picking back up her conversation with the baby like the last five or so minutes had never happened.

"Oh, so now you're not tired?" She asked loudly, layering on the fond annoyance. "Are you gonna keep me up all night?"

It wasn't an exaggeration. Although he didn't understand the importance of what they'd overheard, he'd picked up on the intensity and was now wide awake.

He gave her a petulant look that demanded, 'what did I do?' "Muuu? Ehh?"

She flashed him a smile and pressed a placating kiss to the top of his head. "I'll tell you a story first. Will that help?"

"Burrr!"

The Mandalorian ducked out of the hut as they reached the entrance. He stopped in front of them, looming between them and the doorway like a duraplast wall.

Elsi waited, the perfect image of pleasant ignorance while she pretended that she hadn't heard as much as she had. Her eyes stayed respectfully low even as the baby babbled and reached for the hunter with grabby hands.

The fingers of the Mandalorian's right hand played at his side. She noted it as a nervous tick. He looked like he wanted to say something.

He didn't. He gave them a curt nod before walking off in the direction of the bathhouse.

She wasn't sure if that was good or bad. Elsi liked Kuiil, but didn't know if she wanted to face the oncoming conversation alone. Any presence would be welcomed.

The baby burbled up at her, grinning. He would be there for her, at least.

She bounced him for a moment to steady herself before stepping into the hut.

Kuiil was waiting for her. His face was as grumpy as ever, but his eyes sparkled with renewed determination.

"I will remove your collar," he said, straight to the point. "The Mandalorian has approved. I have spoken."

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_Days had passed with no change. Every night when Elsi tucked her and the child into her bed, she thought the next morning would be the one where she woke to him dead on her chest._

_She prepared for it mentally. Ready for the feel of his cold, lifeless flesh against her own skin. For the bitter disappointment and howling grief._

_It had happened to her once before. Still and stiff and empty._

_Elsi thought it would kill her when it happened again._

_This tiny green baby was not her own, but she knew that it's loss would destroy her regardless._

_When the baby's condition changed, it WAS in the morning, but it wasn't the change she'd anticipated. She woke up and found herself looking deep into a pair of massive, deep brown eyes._

_The baby grinned. He reached out to pat her cheek affectionately. And then he laughed._

_It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

The lock on the collar was not complicated - a fact Kuiil reminded her of more than once. All he had to do was trigger the release on the fob and then pick the lock.

Simple.

It still took a few minutes. A few moments after Kuiil had informed her of the decision and caught her up on the things she'd missed while bathing the child, the Mandalorian had reappeared, making Elsi believe that he'd hadn't really needed to visit the bathhouse and had been lingering outside instead. She couldn't blame him for wanting to avoid the conversation, though. She wished she could've avoided this whole situation altogether.

He made up for it by making himself useful and offering to hold the baby during the procedure. The little goblin stood on his thigh guard, laughing uproariously with the delight of finally being acknowledged by his stoic new friend.

Elsi couldn't see his face, but she could gather from the Mandalorian's body language that he was caught somewhere between uncomfortable and charmed.

" _Waadar ke'sush'_ ," the Mandalorian told the child when he wouldn't sit still. " _Ibic cuyir jaon'yc par gar buir_."

Elsi wasn't familiar with the language, but could glean the gentle rebuttal from the tone.

First Kuiil picked apart the fob, checking and double checking for any nasty anti-escape measures. Finding none, he had Elsi sit in one of the low stools while he stood beside her, giving him easy access to the lock.

Elsi could feel the steel pick scraping around against the iron mechanisms. She was being freed, but the only emotions she could find within her were fluttering anxiety and icy dread. She knew how she was supposed to feel, but knowing something didn't mean shit if it wasn't true.

Despite her feelings, she didn't once resist or argue. They were trying to do her a favor. She didn't want to throw that kindness away. It was also worth mentioning that the Mandalorian and Kuiil were still calling the shots, and if they wanted the collar off, it was coming off.

With a collar, without it, it didn't make much difference to her. She would still be at the whim of whoever was in possession of the baby. She would still be a slave, by nature if not by name.

Especially if they fell into the hands of the Imps, she would either be recollared or chipped.

Or killed.

But the lessened risk of being electrocuted at a whim sounded nice. So that was something.

She'd worn a collar as long as she could remember. Most slave children that were sent to conditioning were collared at age five, as she had been. After that, the only time she'd been without it were the handful of times where she'd outgrown one and had to get it resized.

Resizings were uneventful. It had been at least two decades since her last one, but she could remember how naked she'd felt without the cold metal band holding her together.

The lock clicked and the collar went slack.

Elsi wondered if she'd feel naked all the time now.

Kuiil carefully maneuvered the metal band from around her neck. She swallowed hiss of pain when the end scraped against the tender flesh beneath.

Then it was gone.

Elsi was free.

It didn't feel any different.

Kuiil nodded his satisfaction and the Mandalorian dipped his head in what was probably congratulations. They both looked at her expectantly, which only served to vamp up the sensation of being naked by topping it off with feeling like an animal on display.

What was she supposed to do? Did they expect her to laugh? To cry? To run? She wished she knew so that she could distract herself by having a reaction to fake. Her heart was racing, and the only impulse she had was to curl up in a dark corner and hide.

She would never do that, though. She felt vulnerable enough as it was.

Instead, she reached out to take the baby. He went to her gladly. As novel a concept as the Mandalorian was, the child seemed to sense that his caretaker needed the familiarity of him in her arms. He cooed at her softly, one of his little hands coming up to pat the now bare place where her collar had been. The skin was raw and it didn't feel nice, but she didn't stop him.

He chirped.

"Yeah, that's weird, isn't it?" She murmured quietly, brushing the peach fuzz on his head with her lips. "It is to me, too."

"You have had a long day," Kuiil declared, dropping the now useless collar into a box of other junk. "You will rest now. We leave to find the Jawa at first light."

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

__**~0~0~0~**  
  


In one of the two back rooms within the Ugnaught's home, Elsi sat on the thin straw-stuffed mattress Kuiil had provided. It was lumpy and the fabric was rough against her skin, but it was eons better than the ground or the stiff mat she'd been allotted by the Nikto.

The Mandalorian had been given a similar sleeping pallet, which he'd picked up and carried to one of the storage huts for the sake of privacy. He probably needed some helmetless time, and Elsi couldn't find fault in that.

Elsi's mattress lay on the floor against the wall, wedged in a gap between two shelves. The baby, totally wiped out from the day, finally managed to drift off in her arms. She held him longer than necessary, needing to touch him and know he was okay. She tried placing him in his bassinet twice, only to reopen the shutters because she'd started to panic as soon as they closed and he was hidden from her sight.

He was fine.

He was safe.

 _She_ was safe.

Fine? Not so much.

What she _was_ was exhausted, but her mind wouldn't let her sleep. All of her systems were on high alert and wouldn't shut down.

The faint lowing of the reptiles outside was too loud, the feeble light from the single lamp too bright.

In the next room, she could hear Kuiil's slow, steady breaths as he got the rest she so desperately craved.

Elsi twitched when a toad - one that had been lucky enough to avoid the little green predator sleeping in her lap - started to croak somewhere outside.

She fidgeted, rubbing the comatose baby's ears like a worry stone. All she could think about was the air on her neck. The collar - the thing that had defined her for nearly four decades - sat in a box in the other room, buried under other useless trinkets.

Without it, she felt adrift. Throughout her tumultuous life, it had been her only constant. Her anchor. It wasn't just metal - it was _her_. She'd seen it in the mirror as many times as she'd seen her own face. She'd carried its weight, bore the marks that it had carved into her skin, learned to work and fight around the limitations it represented and even turn them to her advantage. Had it all been for nothing?

Elsi was tempted to go and get it from the other room. Maybe if she held it in her hands - placed it under the sack of a pillow - she could sleep.

But, no. She wouldn't do that.

If she were caught with it… nothing would happen… but she felt that others knew too much about her as it was. Unveiling a weakness was unacceptable.

Trembling, she dug the heel of her palm into her forehead.

There had to be another way.

An idea sparked in the recesses of her whirring mind, bright and shining. It wasn't the best idea she'd ever had; she was more than aware of all the ways that it could go wrong. But now that her brain had latched onto it, there was no letting go.

She didn't have much to lose, anyhow.

Elsi placed the sleeping baby into the bassinet, closing the shutters and firmly telling herself that she wouldn't open them again until morning. Trusting that the baby would sleep until then, she slipped back on her worn shoes and padded silently out of the room.

The night was at its deepest. Cool desert air caressed Elsi's sunburned cheeks and batted at the loose strands of hair that had fallen out of her braid. The stars were brighter than ever, flourishing with the lack of competition in the moonless sky.

She took a few steps out into the murky shadows of the farm. She paused. Listening.

She had a hunch that she wasn't the only one that couldn't sleep.

The faint tinkle of fine metal tools told her that the assumption was correct.

Elsi followed the sound to the Ugnaught's outdoor workshop. It was a sort of stall of wood and metal with a rusted tin awning to protect the tools and storage containers from the weather.

The Mandalorian stood at the workbench jutting out from the shelves, evidently still trying to salvage some of the connections in his damaged vambrace. He looked up from the sautering tool as she approached.

He didn't seem bothered by her presence, but he didn't seem to understand it either.

"The kid?" He asked, indicating the hut with his chin.

"Asleep." Elsi rubbed her arms to ward off the chill. She wondered if a storm front was on its way. Usually a drop in temperature on Arvala-7 precluded a rainstorm.

The Mandalorian grunted, returning his attention back to his work. "You should be, too."

"As should you," she reminded him. It was the first time she'd given him even a hint of attitude beyond compliance. She held her breath to see if he would react.

He didn't, not really. There was a shift in his shoulders, but it seemed to stem from curiosity.

"I should," he admitted, his voice low and soft. He nodded at the damaged vambrace. "But I need to get this functioning properly before tomorrow."

"For the Jawas?"

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I like to be prepared."

Elsi agreed, but continued to feel him out. She raised an eyebrow. "Then you should prepare for negotiation, not battle."

His scoff was little more than a burst of static through the vocoder. "You can't negotiate with Jawas. Not well, at least."

Elsi fixed him with a deadpan expression.

"Well, your last method was so successful," she drawled. "I'm not surprised you're hesitant to try another. Stick with what works, I say."

There was a beat of silence, followed by another burst of static through his helmet. For a microsecond, she thought she'd annoyed him, but the set of his shoulders had loosened. Amused, then.

He shook his head in good-humored disapproval, dropping the sautering tool back into an open toolbox. Elsi stepped closer, closing the cushion of distance between them. The Mandalorian turned to face her as she entered his space, but his body language told her that she wasn't unwelcome.

The Mandalorian was about half a head taller than her. The helmet tilted down to look her in the face.

"Why are you out here?" The question was firm, but the tone his deep voice used to ask it was pure velvet.

She blinked up at him with bland innocence. "I couldn't sleep."

"So you come to me?" She could practically feel his raised eyebrows. He was world-wise enough to recognize that she had ulterior motives - and enough to probably have a pretty good guess as to what that motive was.

"Yes," she said simply. She stood close enough to him now that she could feel his warmth radiating from his body..

"To…" He cocked his head. "...chat?"

Laughable. He thought so too. This was the longest conversation they'd had.

But he still didn't move away. Elsi took it as an invitation.

She placed her hand flat over his abdominals - just below the cuirass. Although there were several layers of thick fabric as well as a Kevlar pad between him and her hand, she could still feel the muscles beneath twitch in response.

With the same amount of innocence, Elsi responded, "Yes."

The helmet tilted to the side. Intrigued. Her hand wandered lower, tracing the edges of the metal buckle of his utility belt, and then lower still.

He grunted when she pressed against the space between his legs. She watched the helmet closely, checking for any signs of discomfort. His breath had quickened, his chest beginning to heave.

He didn't ask her to stop.

Elsi palmed him through his pants until she felt his body start to respond. Then she found his zipper, pulling it down slowly for effect.

Once given access, she pushed her fingers through the gap and was pleased with what she found.

He was already half-hard, and his cock twitched as she ran her thumb across the head.

The Mandalorian grunted, shifting his stance almost imperceptibly wider, like he wanted to give her better access, but knew that he probably shouldn't.

When his hand finally came up to grip her wrist and stall her movements, she started to move away, biting back disappointment.

Except he didn't let her. He kept her in place, her hand still loosely wrapped around his erection. It took him a moment to find his words, but when he did, it wasn't to send her away.

"It wouldn't change anything," he warned.

Elsi understood what he was trying to say. It was unnecessary, but she appreciated it all the same. She and the child were bounties, and they still would be no matter what.

If he was going to fuck her, it wasn't going to be under any false pretenses.

She didn't expect any special treatment to come of this. Not really. It wasn't what she was after right now, anyway. She wanted the release. To be touched. To forget; even if it was for just a few minutes.

If nothing else, maybe it would at least help her get to sleep.

She held the gaze behind the visor unflinchingly. "I know."

He cast a look back towards the hut, seeming to pause and listen for any sign of Kuiil or the baby before turning back to face her. "What about—"

"Implant."

There was a beat of silence; of stillness - save for the heaving of the bounty hunter's battered cuirass. For that moment, neither of them looked away, pale grey eyes locked on the tinted black T, and vice versa. It was an odd sort of stand off - like two fighters in a cantina, each waiting for the other to draw their weapon - except with very different stakes.

The Mandalorian moved. His hand went to the blaster in its holster and drew it, his gaze never leaving Elsi's.

She didn't so much as blink.

Without looking, he dropped the blaster almost carelessly on the workbench, just out of his - and therefore Elsi's - reach.

Then went his vibroblade. He brought his boot up so he could grab the handle without breaking eye contact. The impeccably polished steel flashed in the light before it too was gently tossed alongside the blaster.

Then his utility belt. There were explosives on it. Tools. Sharp objects. It unbuckled with a soft _click_ before being added to the growing pile, landing with a clatter.

The last to go were his gloves. Elsi watched, intrigued, as he picked them off almost daintily by the orange leather tips, one finger at a time. The hands underneath were large and rough. Strong and naturally tan. Human hands. A small, circular tattoo was etched into the soft flesh beside his thumb in dark ink. Elsi wondered what it meant.

The gloves were tossed away carelessly, and his hands dropped to his sides. Not in an uncertain way. Not hesitant. Just… thoughtful. Non threatening.

The helmet ticked sideways, emphasizing the sentiment.

Double checking.

Elsi's body language remained open and relaxed. She shifted her weight back a smidge so the edge of the workbench pressed into her lower back. Inviting him closer.

He stepped into her space. The tattooed hand slowly lifted, coming up to her face, knuckles tracing her jaw. Careful. Exploring.

Her chin tilted up, encouraging. He responded by brushing his thumb across her lips. She parted them, let him do it again. Poked out her tongue to taste his skin, then took his thumb playfully between her teeth.

The Mandalorian's breath seemed to stutter. Emboldened, he closed the remaining distance between them. The metal cuirass pressed flush againt her breasts. His hand wandered down. Down her throat, finding the sweet spots below her ears.

He was VERY good with his hands.

He'd done it like this before.

Elsi wondered how it would feel if he used his mouth - if he'd ever used his mouth like that before. She imagined not.

The Mandalorian hesitated on the rough band of flesh at the base of her throat. The scars were old and deep, twisting the skin into another collar - one that could never be removed.

Elsi knew what it looked like. She'd seen the marks left by over three decades of wearing a collar. Knew it was ugly. When Mandalorian's thumb brushed delicately across the reddened welts left by yesterday's electricity, she shifted away, suddenly unreasonably concerned that he would grab her by the collar etched into her flesh and drag her around by it.

The offending hand moved away at once. He didn't try to touch her there again.

The Mandalorian paused, checking to make sure nothing had changed.

Elsi was tired of waiting. She went back to his cock, this time not hesitating to reach in and free it from where it had been tenting up his pants. She pumped it a few times, but there really was no need. He was ready.

The Mandalorian grunted. His hands flew to her shoulders, gripping her tightly for a moment, seeming torn between pulling her closer and pushing her back.

He settled on pushing her back - back into the table, where he encouraged her to jump so he could lift her onto the work bench. She did, pleased that it was the perfect height to position her hips level with his.

In one fluid motion, the Mandalorian swept the tools on the workbench to the furthest edges of the surface, clearing enough space for her to sit without being perched precariously on the edge.

Elsi spread her legs, and he stepped into the cradle of her body, slipping his hands underneath the hem of her dress to check her readiness - finding the source of her impatience, but not her undergarments, which she'd removed before she left the hut in anticipation of this exact scenario. A growl rumbled in his chest.

That was the end of foreplay.

Finally seeming to understand what she wanted from him, the Mandalorian flipped up her skirt, bunched it at the tops of her thighs, closed the gap between them, and grabbed her by the hips.

Elsi gasped when he pressed his flesh roughly into hers, her hands snapping up to grip the unarmored part of his shoulders. The Mandalorian groaned, using one hand to brace himself against the workbench and the other to hold Elsi in place by tangling in her hair. The moment he was in all the way, he started thrusting.

It wasn't slow.

It wasn't gentle.

The Mandalorian was strong, and he had his own frustrations to vent.

His grip on her hair was tight enough to hurt. The sensation was enough to wipe Elsi's mind blissfully blank.

The only things even remotely worth considering were of the here and now. The slide of his cock. The way he smelled; of dirt and sweat and metal; she buried her face in the fabric covering his collarbones, fascinated by it. The cold press of metal against the side of her head, where his helmet rested - digging in almost painfully as he tried to get closer, get deeper.

She'd never fucked someone while they were helmeted, but couldn't find cause to complain. It was uniquely erotic. She could hear him - each quiet modulated grunt, pant, and groan - each tiny sound given to her through the cold kiss of steel against her ear.

Really, she _liked_ it. Liked the contrast between the heat of his cock and the chill of the armor. Liked the impersonal aspect of the helmet. Liked how she got goosebumps everywhere her flesh touched metal.

That being said, Elsi's hands still roved, seeking out all the soft parts of him she could find. The small of his back. Biceps. Buttocks. The back of his neck. Although those places were covered with thick fabric, she dug her fingers in to ensure he felt every bit of it.

He'd groaned his approval of her exploration, so she continued, going as far as placing a bite on the side of his neck. The fabric tasted of sand and sweat, but it was more than worth his reaction.

Suddenly, he pulled out. Before Elsi could protest, he lifted her bodily off the table and flipped her around so that her back pressed hard against the steel covering his chest, then bent her over the edge and carried on with renewed vigor.

The hand that Elsi wasn't using to brace herself against the bench groped blindly around behind her, jamming her finger against the thigh guard before she found the back of his thigh, which she then gripped tight enough to leave behind bruises.

He was close. The snap of his hips was jagged and cramped. One of his hands went down her front to rub roughly between her legs while the other clutched desperately at one of her breasts.

Her release was quiet, spent by shuddering where she stood trapped between the steel cuirass and wooden table, biting back her cries so they were no more than a few strangled whines and gasps.

He followed soon after. Not remotely loud, but deliciously vocal. His helmet rested heavily against the back of her neck as he gritted his pleasure into the space between her shoulder blades.

They stayed like that for a few minutes. Elsi listened to his modulated breaths, enjoying the weight of him keeping her pinned to the table while he rested against her. The hand that had been groping a breast through fabric dipped down under the neckline and into her bra, where he fondled the flesh beneath almost lazily.

"...you good?" His voice was somehow even more gruff than usual, but in a disheveled way that was undeniably sexy.

Elsi hummed contentedly. Her hands curled around his elbows as she melted back against him. He chuckled breathlessly and nuzzled the front of his helmet against the back of her head, giving her a tight squeeze as he did.

He was soft by the time he finally left her, but even after he'd tucked himself away, he stayed close for another few minutes. The Mandalorian turned her back around and encouraged her to lean against his chest. His strong arms looped around her, taking the time to slowly rub up and down her back and massage her neck with his still-naked fingertips.

She never would've pegged him for a cuddler, but here they were.

It was unexpectedly nice - but all things end. The glass of his visor pressed briefly against her cheek, giving her the approximation of a kiss, then he was moving away.

They didn't exchange any words. There was no need to. When they were done, they went their separate ways - him to the storage shed, her back to the house. No goodbyes. No second glances. No hesitation. Although their brief intimacy had been thoroughly enjoyed by both parties, they were back to their previous relationship of bounty hunter and bounty.

Exactly as it should.

Unbothered, Elsi sneaked back into the house. She checked on the baby and was relieved to find him still asleep. The rush of endorphins had numbed her frayed nerves and the pleasant ache of her core distracted her body from the emptiness around her throat.

Feeling much more grounded, she was finally able to curl up on her makeshift bed and slip into a dreamless sleep.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rough Mando’a translation:  
> “Waadar ke'sush'. Ibic cuyir jaon'yc par gar buir.” = Pay attention. This is important for your mother.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: nothing new

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Four** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

Turns out, Elsi's hunch about a storm front had been right on the credits. When Kuiil woke her just before dawn, she could hear the downpour hammering on the metal roof. Thunder rumbled, powerful enough to make the hut tremble.

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Elsi made for the bassinet, opening the shutters and peering down into the wide, frightened eyes of the baby. He whined piteously and lifted his arms in a bid to be held.

He'd never been a fan of storms.

Bouncing him and rubbing his back comfortingly, Elsi pushed past the curtain and into the front room, finding it already occupied by Kuiil and the Mandalorian.

Both men were already dripping. Water droplets ran down the Mandalorian's helmet in rivets, some pooling in the dents and crevices in his armor. He was returning a breakfast tray to the counter, having already eaten. A similar bowl had been left on the table, and a gesture from Kuiil confirmed that it was for Elsi and the baby.

"We will leave shortly," Kuiil announced. "I will prepare the trailer and the blurrg."

"In this storm?" The Mandalorian groused, wiping his visor with his gloves.

Kuiil waved him away, unimpressed. "It will pass soon. If we are to reach the Jawa by midday, we must leave." He paused, then bustled over to a box, where he retrieved a bundle of dark fabric, which he then presented to Elsi.

She unfolded the cloth, revealing it to be a large, thick cloak of sleek, weather proof material. Elsi thanked him, sitting aside for the moment in favor of spooning some of the sweet breakfast porridge into the baby, who was getting impatient and taking it upon himself to stick his hands into the bowl and shovel it into his mouth.

The Mandalorian grunted. "Fine. I'll help you."

Lightning flashed through the doorway as the two men pushed their way back out into the downpour. The baby whimpered at the thunder that followed, porridge dribbling down his chin.

Elsi wiped his face clean with her sleeve.

"We've talked about this, haven't we?" She murmured, passing a hand over the top off his head to smooth the bed head of rumpled fuzz. "It's just a sound."

The baby grumbled moodily, already reaching to stick his fingers back into the bowl.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_Elsi turned the fabric over in her hands, double checking the pins to make sure everything was in order before she began stitching. The baby waddled up and tugged at her skirt for her attention._

_When he got it, he cocked his head with a questioning little 'Wehh?'_

" _Yes. It's for you," Elsi said, going back to her task of sewing him a new tunic._

_She was using his old one as the pattern, which meant he wouldn't be able to wear it while she took measurements. Elsi's room was warm, and the nanny didn't have a problem with a little naked green baby wandering around the space for an hour or so after his bath. He certainly didn't seem to care either way._

_The child was getting stronger everyday. As soon as he had woken up, he'd scarfed down what must've been twice his body mass in meat stew, and then immediately wanted to play. Elsi, knowing that he was bound to be attention-starved, happily complied, and kept him entertained for hours with peekaboo, tickles, and hide-and-seek._

_Her master had been ecstatic. Lord Burkisn visited her quarters as soon as he heard, interrupting the baby's second bowl of stew to turn the bewildered little gremlin back in forth in his hands, only to plop him back down in Elsi's arms and stride back out, muttering excitedly to himself about contacting someone._

_The baby reached up for the fabric with his little three fingered hand. Elsi paused for another moment to offer him a discarded strip left over from when she had been cutting the shapes of the sleeves. The baby chirruped appreciatively and toddled off to play with his new makeshift toy, twisting it in his hands and wrapping it around his ears to wear as a hat._

_The fabric she had chosen was left over from the last time she'd made a dress for one of the other housemaids. It wasn't the fine silks she'd promised him, but it would do for now. It was soft and light enough for free movement, but durable and thick to keep the wearer warm. Luckily for her, the baby was so small that it didn't take much fabric to clothe him._

_Elsi had plenty of scraps that had been too small to do anything with but too large to justify throwing out, and already had plans to make him a third tunic and another, warmer coat. Sure, it would be a bit of a patchwork job, but anything was better than leaving him in the same worn out things everyday._

_Elsi had been there many times. She didn't want the same for him._

_As she watched him play with the strip of fabric, she also made a mental note to piece together a cloth doll. She was sure she had some stuffing stashed away somewhere..._

_What._

_The._

_Fuck._

_The baby laughed._

_Elsi's pincushion floated in midair, drifting almost lazily across the room from where it had been sitting on the table._

_Her mind was frantically putting all the pieces together. Why so many people wanted him. Why Lord Burksin was so desperate to keep him alive and healthy._

_She'd heard of things like this before. She'd always thought of them as stories… but…_

_The baby levitated the pincushion into his own hands and the sight of him holding an object full of sharp needles was enough to snap her out of her thoughts._

_Elsi stood abruptly and stalked across the room to pluck it out of his grasp._

" _No," she told him firmly, maternal sternness hiding the tremor in her voice. "We don't play with Nanny's needles. They hurt. Okay?"_

_The baby's ears drooped. Elsi sighed, returning to her sewing table._

" _Tell you what…"_

_Elsi plucked all the needles from the pincushion and stuck them all into a wad of scrap fabric. She rolled the now-harmless piece of stuffed fabric back to the baby, who immediately perked up and picked it up to squish._

" _Just until I make you something better, alright?"_

_The baby chuckled, giving no indication that he understood her as he hefted the ball over his head, the Force lifting it higher than his hands would reach._

_Elsi drew a shaky sigh, returning her attention to her work, giving her hands something to do while her mind whirred away._

_Yes, he was valuable._

_But what could Underworld goons want with that kind of power?_

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

The storm wouldn't last too long, but the time it lingered was dreary and miserable. The rain beat down on the metal trailer, straight and unfaltering as the lightning flashed endlessly above their heads. Kuiil rode ahead, sitting up high on the giant lizard - which Elsi had since learned was called a blurrg - as it plodded along, tugging the trailer steadily forward.

The Mandalorian sat at the head of the trailer on a metal storage box, stoic and evidently unbothered by the downpour. He stared straight ahead with his rifle resting in his lap - though the only thing ahead of him was the rump of the blurrg, and so Elsi couldn't help but wonder if he was making a point of _not_ looking at her.

The thought perplexed her, so she used it to amuse herself while they travelled. The baby was tucked away in his bassinet, either playing quietly or napping, leaving Elsi with nothing to keep herself occupied other than her own thoughts; and of the trains of thought currently available, the one concerning the Mandalorian was the least bleak.

She was trying _not_ to think about her collar, and was doing pretty well to forget about it, having tied the strip of fabric she'd used the day before as a bonnet around her neck to make a scarf; it wasn't great, but it hid the scars and kept the air off her neck, which was all she could ask.

She knew she ought to be trying to plan her way around the baby falling into the hands of the Imps, but she had so little information that she was only succeeding in making herself anxious.

But the Mandalorian was… interesting. From her vantage point sitting on her own crate a little behind and to the side of the Mandalorian's, she could study him from underneath her hooded cloak without his noticing. Not that anything about him was especially peculiar. A rugged, world-worn member of what was rumored to be a dying culture, resorting to a gritty, violent profession to survive. Nothing unusual about that. The Empire had made that of almost everyone.

What stood out about him was his quiet, seemingly kind nature - a trait that was in short supply these days, or at least among those that Elsi encountered. She appreciated it; it made him a trustworthy protector and a worthwhile lover, which made her almost sorry that their previous coupling was almost undoubtedly their last.

Shame, really. Not only did she appreciate the pleasant soreness he'd left between her legs, she was still curious about that cuddly side he'd shown her.

Rain drenched and motionless, he appeared more machine than man, and certainly wasn't showing that softer side now.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_The figures of the Underworld came as night fell. Elsi thought of them as Borcatu; small, insidious vermin that wormed their way into every corner of the galaxy. There were six of them at Lord Burkisn's table. Elsi didn't know who they were. Didn't really want to. But they had taken the baby with them into Burkisn's private study, so she lingered, hoping to catch snippets of the conversation through the thick oaken door._

_She didn't like what she heard._

_The child was as much of a slave as she was. They knew about his abilities. Knew he was valuable. Only, they didn't seem to know what to do with him._

_The baby was up for sale._

_Lord Burkisn was mediator. The spokesman of some silent, higher power. No wonder he'd been so nervous about the baby's health; you break it, you buy it, and all. Elsi couldn't quite get her bearings on the seller, but one of the potential buyers was definitely Imperial; the clipped, almost serene tones gave him away. A Vice Admiral, if she wasn't mistaken. Vice Admiral Viln._

_There were several other players at the table, but the most interested party apart from the Vice Admiral was some kind of warlord who was in charge of a number of mercenary gangs; hired guns, assassins, etc. He was called Kue Fusa. Elsi didn't recognize the name, but from the way the others in the room spoke to him, he was a force to be reckoned with._

_To Viln and Fusa, it was more than an auction. They seemed to take it personally, each offer and counter offer was seen as a personal dig at the other and the formidable organizations they represented._

_With their hands temporarily tied by social niceties, they resorted to outdoing the other; and while there was no way in hell anyone actually cared beyond the credits, the baby's welfare became a point of confrontation; Especially since he'd only just recovered from an illness caused by neglect._

_In the end, Fusa offered to increase his offer and buy Elsi as a package deal._

_Viln scoffed at the idea. There was no point in it._

_Elsi floundered at the thought of being sold again._

_Vice Admiral Viln, seeming to have had enough, doubled Fusa's offer_ without _bundling in the slave woman._

_Elsi didn't know whether to be troubled or relieved._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

The rain stopped around mid morning. The sun returned with a vengeance, and the remaining clouds melted into nothing like cotton candy in a watering mouth. Soon, the puddles were burned away, leaving the ground to crack and crumble under the blurrg's stumpy legs.

With the rain gone, Elsi freed the baby from where he'd been shuttered in his bassinet, but wouldn't let him actually get out of it to wander around in the small trailer.

He grumbled at her moodily, but eventually gave in and flopped down to amuse himself with his toys.

Neither the Mandalorian nor Kuiil were much interested in conversation. Occasionally, Kuiil would comment on a landmark or game trail as they passed it. The Mandalorian might occasionally acknowledge him with a half-interested grunt or a one-to-two word response. Elsi was again left with her thoughts.

She fiddled with the bracelet wrapped seven times around her wrist, worrying the loose beads near the clasp. The beads were large enough to be threaded on a strand of the braided leather, and so were large enough to slip off when the clasp was undone.

Again, it looked next to worthless.

Elsi tugged at the clasp a little too hard.

Oops.

One side of the clasp was pulled from where it was tied to the braid. The five or six beads nearest to the loose end tumbled off and scattered across the trailer bed, pinging on the metal and rolling every which way.

Muttering curses under her breath, Elsi crouched on her hands and knees to give chase. The Mandalorian's helmet turned to watch for a moment, but ultimately returned his attention to the landscape.

The baby, on the other hand, studied his caretaker with wide eyes that knew a little too much. Elsi flashed him one of her secret smiles as she rethreaded the beads and twisted the clasp back into place.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

When they reached the Jawa, the sun was just slipping past its highest point. Despite the heat, Elsi kept on the cloak Kuiil had lent her as protection from the sun's rays. When Kuiil told them that they were getting close, Elsi finally took the baby out of the bassinet and sat him in her lap. He preened when she gave his ears a distracted scratch, her eyes fixed on the dark, looming shape of the crawler up ahead.

She heard the Jawas before she saw them. Upon seeing the traveling party, the air was filled with their agitated screeches.

" _Greetings!_ " Kuiil called out jovially in fluent Jawa. Elsi was pretty fluent herself, as bartering under the table was the best way for a slave to find comforts that weren't provided by their masters, and there weren't many people who were willing to trade with slaves.

The angry wails only increased in volume.

"They ready don't like you, for some reason," Kuiil commented offhandedly to the Mandalorian, who still sat with his rifle handy across his lap.

"Well, I did disintegrate a few of them," the Mandalorian said wryly. He shifted his weight slightly, the only indication that he was uneasy.

"You need to drop your rifle."

The Mandalorian's hands tightened on the weapon. "I'm a Mandalorian," he grit, "weapons are part of my religion."

Kuiil shot the armored warrior one of his trademark paternally-disapproving glances. "Then you're not getting your parts back."

Elsi actually heard the Mandalorian's teeth click as he tightened his jaw. For a heartbeat, she half-thought that he would refuse.

But he only sighed, sitting the rifle to the side as he pushed himself to his feet. "Fine."

" _No weapons!"_ The Jawa spokesperson repeated, pointing at the Mandalorian's blaster accusingly,

"And the blaster."

The leather glove creaked as the Mandalorian clenched his fists, but again, relented.

The baby chirped, wiggling to be put down as the trailer came to a halt. Generally unafraid of the Jawa, Elsi placed him carefully on his stubby little feet, then followed him to the floor to sit cross-legged behind him while he stood at the edge, so that he was well within her reach should he decide to get a closer look at the funny little people that were jabbering to each other and to Kuiil.

Elsi watched the negotiations with mild amusement. Jawas were strange creatures, but easy to please, if you knew how.

In this case, they wanted an egg.

The Mandalorian would bring them _the egg_.

It sounded simple enough, but Elsi knew that, for the Jawa to want something that badly but be unwilling to get it for themselves, there was no way that it was a simple task.

The Mandalorian had to have known that, but he agreed anyway.

Elsi was beside herself with worry.

Now that she had a friend in Kuiil, Elsi wasn't _too_ concerned about Mando's welfare. If he died, then she and the baby had somewhere to stay until she figured out something else. The only downside was that she'd _still_ be stuck on Arvala-7, further increasing the risk of being caught and/or killed by other hunters.

They _needed_ to get offworld somehow.

And so, although she _did_ want the Mandalorian to survive, the source of her agitation wasn't him, but rather, the fact that he had _taken the baby with him_.

Elsi was _pissed_.

Of course, she understood WHY; to the Mandalorian, leaving _both_ of his bounties behind, unguarded, was a bad idea. She knew he thought that, sans collar, Elsi would take the baby and make a run for it. Although she had no intention of trying to escape him, she was also well aware that there was nothing she could do to convince him otherwise.

So, they couldn't be left together.

If he took Elsi with him, there was the off chance that she would take advantage of an already risky situation and sabotage him while he was distracted by the beast guarding the egg.

He would take the baby, instead.

So, YES, Elsi understood. But that didn't mean that she wasn't still very, VERY angry about it. She didn't even bother trying to hide it.

The Mandalorian had the decency to seem sheepish. He'd tilted his head sympathetically when she moodily tucked the child back into the bassinet, wrapping each blanket around him as if she could create a barrier to protect him while she wasn't there. He also swore - quietly, so the Jawa wouldn't hear - to guard the child with his own life while he was in the hunter's care.

It didn't make her feel any better.

And so, Elsi sat on the trailer with her legs dangling over the edge, worrying the beads on her bracelet and watching the ridge that the Mandalorian had vanished over about an hour prior.

Kuiil waddled back over from where he'd been checking over his blurrg and brushing dried mud from between its scaly toes, leaning back against the trailer beside Elsi and folding his arms across his chest.

"The Mandalorian will care for the child," Kuiil declared in that blunt way of his. "They will both return to you soon. I have spoken."

Elsi didn't respond, keeping her eyes on the horizon, as if she could will the baby back to her faster, if only she kept looking.

Ugnaught grunted. "Have you considered my offer?"

She didn't have to look over to know he was studying her carefully. Elsi rolled a bead around between her forefinger and thumb. "My answer is unchanged."

Kuiil had first broached the subject on the Jawa crawler, when the Mandalorian had gone up to the control room and Elsi was left to tend the baby in the cargo hold with Kuiil.

She could stay with him on his farm, he'd said. He could sponsor her until she found something better.

She could be free.

"The bounty is for the child," Kuiil insisted. "The Mandalorian does not want to see you returned to chains any more than I do. He can be convinced to leave you behind."

The Mandalorian wasn't the reason she refused, and they both knew it.

"It isn't all about credits. He has a code," Elsi murmured anyway. "My worth is irrelevant. He will not break it."

Kuiil shook his head stubbornly. "That is not an issue. I can help you to convince him."

"And what, stay behind and allow him to take the child?" She scoffed. "Never."

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_When the meeting adjourned, Elsi slipped away before anyone could catch her eavesdropping. She returned to her quarters to wait anxiously by the door for the baby to be returned to her._

_Sure enough, another servant knocked at the door a few minutes later, carrying the lidded crate bearing the child._

" _The child has been bought," the servant informed her. "The Vice Admiral will be staying for three days until the courier bringing the appropriate credits arrives. You are to make the child ready for departure at that time."_

_Elsi took the box urgently, closing the door so hastily that she almost shut it before the servant was done speaking. She hurried over to the table and sat the box down to open it._

_When Elsi flipped open the lid, her heart ached almost as keenly as it had the first time she'd done so, when the baby was first placed in her care._

_The lively, bubbly little creature that she'd grown so fond of was gone. The child huddled in the corner of the box, frightened, sad, and very much alone. It was as if the light inside him had been snuffed out. He stared dully at his stumpy green feet, his usually bright, curious eyes empty and devoid of life._

" _Hey, lovely," Elsi murmured. His drooping ears twitched slightly at the sound of her voice. "It's over now. All those awful people are gone. They didn't hurt you, did they? Let me see…"_

_He all but melted against her when she took him back into her arms. The baby buried his little face into her neck, clutching desperately at her dress with all the strength he had in his tiny three fingered hands._

_Elsi held him tight to her chest, rubbing soothing circles against his back and humming quietly. Her heart broke just that little bit more when he began to tremble, his body heaving with sobs as he silently cried his little heart out._

_In that moment, Elsi made a very important decision._

_When the baby finally hiccuped himself into silence, she pulled his head carefully away from the damp spot on her shoulder, just enough to look deep into his tired, watery eyes._

" _I won't leave you alone like that again," she promised, wiping at the tear trails and snotty nose with her sleeve. "From now on, your battles are mine."_

_The baby blinked up at her owlishly, seeming to understand._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

"The child attracts those who wish to enslave others, and will continue to do so," Kuiil continued stubbornly. "You have been granted your freedom, and you will not lose it again. I have spoken."

Elsi's eyes flashed.

"I've come too far and fought too hard for him," she said slowly, her voice taking on a low, yet dangerous edge. "I will not abandon him now… and _I_ have spoken."

_**  
~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: mild sexual assault, violence, strangulation, death, poisoning.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Five** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

Elsi and Kuiil didn't speak again until the Mandalorian returned. It wasn't a tense silence, simply pensive. Side by side they waited, listening to the increasingly impatient babbling of the Jawa.

When the Jawa finally decided to leave, Elsi bit her lip. Kuiil scoffed and tried to make them stay, but she knew they were probably right; it had been a long time, and the chances of the hunter and child coming back under their own power were getting smaller by the minute.

The crawler's massive door groaned its way shut. Elsi had just drawn breath to ask Kuiil how much longer they should wait before going to look for the baby, when a dark shape rounded the top of the hill.

Kuiil jumped up straight, waving his arms excitedly. "Mando!"

The Mandalorian was certainly worse for wear; caked head to toe in chunky, drying mud. The rusted cuirass was mangled and bent out of shape, curling half-off of his chest like a dried leaf and rattling loosely with every step. Under one arm, he carried one of his thigh guards and a pauldron, and a large, furry egg the size of a melon under the other. He moved slowly, taking small, stiff steps down the hill and favoring his right leg.

With cacophonous shrieks of approval, the Jawa tumbled back out down the crawler ramp and swarmed over to the bounty hunter, who passed the egg off into the greedy hands of the first one to reach him.

Kuiil waddled to greet the Mandalorian, but Elsi made a beeline for the bassinet. A wave of panic washed over her when she saw him. He was laid out flat on his back, completely still. His normally vibrant green skin was waxy and pale; when she brushed her hand across his forehead, she found him clammy.

The baby snuffled a little, but didn't otherwise respond.

The Mandalorian's heavy presence loomed behind her as she checked the child over. "Is he alright?"

"He should be," she said slowly. She understood what was wrong, of course, but she was still having to fight to keep her voice steady. "What did he do?"

"He lifted the mudhorn." The Mandalorian's mud-crusted helmet tipped towards the bassinet. "But I don't understand how."

"No wonder he's tired," she mused, mostly to herself. Elsi brushed the baby's hand delicately with one finger, tracing the edges of one of his claws. "He'll be okay. He just… needs rest."

The Mandalorian dipped his head in acknowledgment. "What…" he started slowly, like he didn't actually want to ask the question, but also couldn't _not_. "What is he?"

She didn't have an answer.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

The Jawa loaded the parts. The Mandalorian and Kuiil directed them. Elsi waited.

The baby slept.

And slept.

And slept.

She'd known him to sleep like this before, but never so deeply. But then again, he'd never lifted a mudhorn, either, at least as far as she was aware.

On the ride back to the Mandalorian's ship, Elsi took the child out of the bassinet to lay him against her chest, tucking his head under her chin in the way he liked to be held when he wasn't feeling well. He snuffled a little at the transition, curling his tiny fists into her scarf and clinging to her in his sleep. Elsi counted it as progress.

They arrived back at the ship just as the last of the sun's rays faded below the horizon.

"There's no way we're gonna get this to work without a full maintenance facility," the Mandalorian groused. "This is gonna take days to fix."

Kuiil scoffed in disapproval, righting the workshop light he'd brought along and lighting it; Elsi blinked at the spots it left in her vision.

"Maybe if you'd care to help, it might go faster."

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_Elsi was eavesdropping again._

_There was more to the art of eavesdropping than simply listening when you weren't supposed to be. Not only did you have to know HOW to listen without being seen; you had to know WHO to listen to and WHEN._

_Elsi was very good at it._

_There were times where being a slave worked in her favor. Not only were you allowed to move through a household and be overlooked, but masters had a nasty habit of forgetting the slave was in the room - no matter the discussion. Why should you watch your tongue around the furniture? It's not like the sofa can THINK, or anything._

_This wasn't the first time Elsi had used this oversight to her advantage, and it certainly wasn't the last. It only took a day - during the three of the child's naps, to be precise - for her to learn what she wanted to know._

_Vice Admiral Viln's payment was coming by courier in two days._

_He was taking a risk with this investment. He had superiors that thought it was a waste of time._

_Kue Fusa, the warlord, was still staying at Lord Burkisn's manor. He was still hoping to usurp the Vice Admiral's agreement via under the table deals._

_Lord Burkisn was nervous. He agreed to hand the deal over to Fusa, should the Vice Admiral not be able to hold up his end of the deal._

_Elsi could work with that._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

As it turned out, Kuiil was a mechanical genius. If a part was broken, he fixed it. If they were missing a needed tool, he made one. The Mandalorian was pretty adept himself, but even with their combined skill and determination - the Mandalorian had been right - it took three days. Which was much faster than Elsi had figured; having fully expected to be stranded for at least another full week.

With the baby asleep, there wasn't much for her to do. At first she resigned herself to fetching tools, preparing meals, and sweeping the dirt their boots tracked into the cargo hold. When Kuiil discovered that she knew a little about mechanics - not much, just enough to maintain small household devices - he set her to reinstalling some of the minor systems, i.e. the sonic shower, the conservator, the nanowave, etc. Elsi knew that they were relatively menial tasks - things that the Mandalorian probably would've been fine with fixing on his own time when the job was over and he'd been paid - but they both knew that Kuiil wouldn't be satisfied until there was nothing left to be fixed.

So with the baby strapped to her chest in the cloth wrap she'd saved from their time at Lord Burkisn's manor, Elsi worked dutifully on each new assignment, resigned to letting the Mandalorian check over her work every half hour or so. He still didn't trust her, obviously. Though what she could possibly achieve by sabotaging his nanowave was beyond her.

Although he was right to be concerned by her taking advantage of the situation and turning it against him, in this case, there was no need. She wanted offworld almost as badly as he did.

More than that, she would never be so careless as to scheme in the manner she was expected to.

No. She had other ideas. They weren't good ideas, but several months of being trapped in a compound in the desert with no resources and no access to the black market had left her rather low on options.

Elsi focused hard on the wires she held, tracing each of them back to their respective sources and trying to determine what was missing. She absently fiddled with her faulty bracelet as she worked. The beads clinked rhythmically against each other, the sound so quiet and regular that it faded naturally into the ambient sounds of the hold.

_Click. Clickclick. Click. Click. Clickclick._

As expected, the clasp gave away. A few beads scattered across the hold, pinging off the metal grating. Elsi cursed and gave chase, supporting the child strapped to her chest with one hand while the other sought out the runaway beads.

The Mandalorian crouched a short distance away, bolting a metal sheet back into place along the wall. He only paused for a moment, visor casting the barest glance in her direction before turning back to the job at hand.

Elsi pressed a kiss to the sleeping baby's head before shuffling back to her corner to restring the beads.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

At the end of the third day of repairs, the _Razor Crest_ was deemed space-worthy and given Kuiil's seal of approval. The Mandalorian stalked the length of the hold from cockpit to landing struts, inspecting every bolt and clearly itching to get underway. But he did pause long enough to offer the Ugnaut a job working on his ship. When Kuiil respectfully declined, neither the bounty hunter nor Elsi were surprised.

The Mandalorian tipped his head in acknowledgement, then retreated to a polite distance, loitering near the ladder to the cockpit so Kuiil could have a word with Elsi.

The Ugnaught turned his wizened face on the nanny, his sunken eyes solemn and heavy with sorrow.

"The child still sleeps?" Kuiil observed, nodding to the child still strapped to her chest.

Elsi touched her thumb to the tip of a fuzzy green ear poking out of the cloth. "Yes."

"Do you expect him to recover?"

Elsi had considered the possibility that he wouldn't - she was far too pragmatic not to - but the notion of him simply keeling over from simple overexertion didn't seem to fit.

"I do," she said. "I've seen him worse. He's strong."

Kuiil grunted, lowering his voice further. "And you will not reconsider my offer?"

"You are very kind, and I'm grateful for all you have done for me." She shook her head slightly. "But no."

He gave another grunt, bowing his head with acceptance. The Ugnaught extended his hands and took both of hers in his.

"Then I will bid you and your charge a safe journey. Should you pass this system again, know that you will always find welcome in my valley. May you find the freedom and peace that you deserve." He gave her hands a final squeeze. "I have spoken."

"Goodbye, my friend," Elsi murmured, somewhat remorseful as the Ugnaught released her hands and began shuffling down the ramp.

The Mandalorian, seeing that the moment had passed, strode back across the hold. With a final nod to the Ugnaught, who had mounted his blurrg, the bounty hunter pressed the button on the wall to the ramp. The hydraulics hissed and groaned in response. The door closed, sealing Elsi and the baby in with the Mandalorian bounty hunter.

There was a heartbeat after the hatch closed where nothing happened. The only sound was the baby's soft breaths against Elsi's chest.

The Mandalorian tilted his head down to look at her.

"Come on," he rasped. "You'll need to strap in - at least until we make the jump into hyperspace."

Without another word, the Mandalorian turned, cape swishing in the now-still air, and scaled the ladder. Elsi took a moment to scratch at the baby's head before following.

The view of the outside world offered by the cockpit helped Elsi to feel a little less confined. The sun was setting, washing the dull grey chamber in orange and gold, serving to make it seem less like a tomb.

With the baby still tucked against her, she strapped herself into the copilot's seat to the Mandalorian's right. The Mandalorian flicked switches and pressed buttons. Elsi watched out of the corner of her eye, committing the sequence to memory in case it became relevant.

The engines roared to life. The Mandalorian took them up quickly but smoothly; soon the desert of Arvala-7 had fallen away, and all Elsi could see out of the viewport were stars.

The Mandalorian plotted their course into hyperspace. Elsi settled back into her seat to wait.

"How long will we be in hyperspace?" She dared to ask.

She wasn't entirely sure that he would answer. In the short time they'd been acquainted, he had never seemed particularly interested in speaking with her; a sentiment that their brief intimacy had seemed to increase tenfold.

A sigh only just caught on his modulator. "Four days."

 _That long?_ She knew better than to ask where they were going.

The ship lurched and the stars blurred, going from distant pinpricks, to smears, then to a vibrant, swirling vortex. Elsi's ears popped. She worked her jaw to relieve the pressure, stopping when the bundle on her chest shifted. Elsi looked down to see a set of large, dark eyes blinking up at her sleepily.

The baby squeaked a greeting.

"Did you sleep good?" Elsi asked, surprised but pleased. The baby purred contentedly, then yawned. "Yeah?"

He chirped, his chubby fist reaching up to pat at his chin - another one of the signals she'd taught him. _Hungry._

"I'll bet," Elsi agreed. She glanced up to see the Mandalorian had turned around in his seat. His head was canted at a curious angle as he watched the two interact. "May I take him back to feed him?"

The Mandalorian turned back stiffly to the controls, as if embarrassed that he'd been caught staring. His voice was tight and resigned, hardly more than a wisp of static. "Fine."

Elsi unbuckled and left the cockpit. She'd become rather familiar with the _Razor Crest's_ layout over the last few days, and knew exactly where to go in her search for food. Behind the cockpit, on the other side of the landing with the ladder, was a tiny room. In it was the conservator, nanowave, and a compact stove, as well as a small booth half-built into the wall for space.

As the person who had been largely responsible for repairing and reinstalling the equipment, she felt more than comfortable fiddling around the tiny kitchen to prepare a meal. She'd also been the one to restock it with the supplies Kuiil had been more than generous to provide them - not much, but enough to keep the trio fed for the next four days - and so knew where everything was.

Elsi freed the baby from the wrap and sat him down on the table so he could stretch his stubby little legs. She rehydrated and heated up a decent sized portion of meat stew. The baby sniffed at it skeptically when she placed it before him, not a huge fan of rehydrated meat, but was far too hungry to be picky beyond blowing a raspberry when Elsi handed him his spoon. Objection voiced, he attacked the bowl with gusto.

"Slow down, lovely," Elsi chided, tracing a finger fondly down the length of his ear. "You'll make yourself sick."

The baby blew another raspberry.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

Their first night on the _Crest_ , Elsi and the baby didn't see much of the Mandalorian. After eating, Elsi returned to the cockpit to offer to fix him a portion of the stew they'd eaten. He declined, not bothering to turn away from controls.

Elsi left it at that. Then she and the baby went down into the cargo hold in search of the child's toys.

They spent the next few hours playing quietly in the hold. The baby seemed content to be on the move, even if he had no real concept of their destination or space travel. He was especially pleased to be free to toddle around and not be confined to his bassinet, as he preferred activity over sitting patiently and waiting for everything to be over.

When he finally tired, Elsi took advantage of the 'fresher to clean him properly, bathing him in the sink with the body wash she'd found in the shower. It was stiff smelling and masculine, obviously belonging to the Mandalorian; plain and utilitarian, she recognized it from when she'd had her face buried in his neck, muffled though it was by the smell of sweat and desert.

As she squeezed some into her palm and massaged it into the child's skin, she couldn't help but breathe it in, and absently imagined the bounty hunter, fresh from a shower, smelling the same.

After his bath, Elsi finally took the time to clean the little creature's teeth. Armed with a tiny brush from her small bag of toiletries, she set to work.

Elsi pulled back her lips, exposing her teeth. The baby copied the expression and held it patiently, allowing her to clean his little teeth with the soft bristles. When she opened her mouth wide, he did the same. And again when she stuck out her tongue.

If she had to be stuck caring for a being that would remain a baby for an untold number of years, she was glad it was him. If he had been a human baby, she would've lost her mind. He didn't cry unless there was a genuine reason and then would usually stop when he knew that someone had noticed the problem. He didn't produce much in the way of waste, and what did end up in his reusable diapers didn't smell half as bad as that in human diapers and was significantly easier to clean. While he was intelligent enough to be a nuisance, it came in handy during stressful situations when she needed him to stay quiet or hide.

And in this case, it was quite nice to not have to fight tooth and nail to complete a task as mundane as brushing teeth.

It wasn't until she was almost done that she glanced up enough to catch a glimpse of the dark shape looming behind her in the mirror. The Mandalorian stood in the doorway behind her, still as a statue and quiet as the grave.

Elsi ducked her head, startled and a little embarrassed at not noticing that he'd been standing there, watching them, for Maker knows how long.

"Apologies," she said formally. "Are we in your way?"

The Mandalorian didn't respond immediately. He just stood there for a few moments, like he wasn't processing the question or even that she'd spoken to him at all. His body language betrayed nothing; he was just sort of… _there_. She didn't think he was angry, so was this… surprise?

"No," he said finally, his voice flat and emotionless. He turned and vanished.

The baby cocked his head, pursing his lips at the minty taste still in his mouth. "Bah?"

Elsi heard the hunter's boots on the ladder, and only then did she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

He had _no right_ to be that sneaky.

Maybe she was losing her touch.

She seriously hoped not. Awareness kept her alive.

Even though he had said that they weren't in his way, Elsi hurried to finish just in case. The baby was tired, anyway, so the sooner he got back to sleep - a proper sleep, not a coma - the better. She was tired too, having been unable to rest easy while her charge was unwell.

So as soon as she'd crawled into the alcove that she'd taken to sleeping in over the last few days and closed the metal shield separating the metal cot from the rest of the hold, she and the baby were quick to fall into peaceful slumber.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

One day passed. Then two. They'd be arriving wherever the Mandalorian was taking them in less than a day and a half, and Elsi was running out of time. There were things she needed to do, and once started, there would be no turning back.

Elsi sat at the end of one of the cots built into an alcove in the cargo hold, her legs dangling out into the hold while the baby played tiredly around her feet. It was 'morning' on the _Razor Crest_ ; she'd intentionally kept him up all night, hoping he would soon want a nice, long nap. This meant she was tired too, and while under normal circumstances she'd be more than happy to join him in a mid morning snooze, adrenaline coursed through her system like the most potent spice; she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep if she tried.

The baby dropped the wooden ball he'd been playing with and yawned, almost falling over with the force of it. He looked up at his caregiver with bleary eyes, reached up with both arms to be picked up.

Elsi obliged, but instead of bundling him up to sleep, she sat him on her lap facing her. The baby's ears perked up - still sleepy, but curious - when Elsi looked deep into his dark eyes, searching for the right words to say.

The baby blinked patiently.

Elsi swallowed. When she finally spoke, her throat was so tight that her voice croaked. "We've come a long way, you and I. Haven't we?"

The baby cooed. Elsi cleared her throat.

"I'm not going to lie to you. I'm running out of tricks," she admitted, "and my luck won't last forever."

The baby smiled, reaching up to pat her cheek fondly. She'd never given him a reason to doubt her.

Elsi fell silent for a few moments, gathering strength to say what needed to be said. "I… uh… I don't know what's going to happen next, you know? And I hope with every fiber of my being that we… that we will be able to stay together… or at least… or at least that you won't be alone again. Not like you were before. But in case we don't… in case… in case I have to leave you…"

The child's ears twitched.

Elsi took a deep breath. "Know that I care for you deeply, and I've done my best to care for you as you deserve to be. Yeah? And you'll find someone else, won't you? You cute little bastard."

Elsi chucked wetly, pressing their foreheads together and closing her eyes. She felt the baby's claws wander up to curl into the hair covering her temples. He pulled a little too hard, but Elsi didn't mind.

"Someday you'll find people who love you so much that you forget all about me," she murmured at last. The baby tugged her hair sharply. Her soft grey eyes snapped open once more, fixing deeply on his. "And that's okay. You got that? That's a _good thing_."

The baby twirled a lock of dirty blonde hair around his fingers, chuckling quietly to himself. Elsi smiled sadly, partially glad that he hadn't been able to grasp the meaning of her words, partially disappointed. There were times where he could be so perceptive, but maybe it was a good thing that this wasn't one of them.

Or, hell, maybe he DID understand, but thought that her words were unnecessary, that this wasn't goodbye.

Elsi hoped he was right.

Blinking the moisture from her eyes, Elsi pressed a kiss to the top of the baby's head and stood. Walking across the hold to the ladder felt a lot like walking to the gallows, but she was able to keep the dread from showing in her steps.

The Mandalorian was sitting in the pilot seat, a spot that he'd hardly left at all over the past two days. Elsi had seen the carbonite freezer in the back of the hold, and deduced that he wasn't used to having bounties loose on his ship.

She was sure he'd considered it, and was grateful that he hadn't. She didn't peg him as an unfeeling man, and so imagined that he found the concept of putting a baby in carbonite unsavory. Elsi was another story - and she was sure that he wouldn't hesitate to if she'd given him a reason - but with her frozen, the job of caring for the baby would default to the bounty hunter. He would probably avoid that contingency at all costs.

In lieu of the freezer, if Elsi wasn't actively sleeping, eating, or caring for the baby, she was expected to be in the cockpit where the hunter could keep an eye on her.

Because of this, it wasn't at all strange for Elsi to bring the dozy baby up the ladder to put him down for a nap. His bassinet had been left up here for that very purpose, strapped into the left-hand seat while Elsi would then settle into the right to wait in silence for him to wake.

The Mandalorian barely turned to look when she entered. Elsi gave a polite nod before sidling over to tuck the baby into the bassinet. The child mumbled softly when she tucked his blankets around him and placed Froggy within his grasp.

Elsi stood over the baby, quietly humming and trailing the top of her pinky finger over the bridge of his nose while she waited for him to drift off.

When he finally did, Elsi closed the shutters and went to sit in her own seat. She settled back into the worn leather, wrapping the cloak Kuiil had given her more snuggly around her to ward off the chill of hyperspace.

All the while, she twiddled the beads of her bracelet.

_Click._

_Clickclick._

_Click._

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_It wasn't nearly as hard as it should've been._

_But, to be honest, it never was._

_Men like the Vice Admiral, big and important and powerful men, never saw it coming. To them, death always came at the end of a blaster, carried out by a mercenary or soldier. Always an assassination. Never a simple murder, for there were always politics involved._

_Never by a house slave. Never at the end of a sewing needle._

_She told one of the maids, the one who had been assigned to care for the Vice Admiral, to take the evening off. The maid was happy to do so as it were, but it helped that she also owed Elsi a favor._

_Dressed in their uniform, she looked no different than the other maids. Slaves were faceless creatures, interchangeable. When she brought the Vice Admiral his night cap, the finest from Lord Burkisn's cellar, he didn't once notice that the pretty young woman that usually brought his drink and dressed him for bed had been replaced by another._

_She gave him his drink. He drank it._

_She waited, her hands folded in front of her demurely. When his eyes raked over her body hungrily, she didn't react. When he ordered her to undress him, she obeyed._

_She waited._

_He wanted her to touch him. He was a high born snob; he'd never stoop so low as to have sex with a lowly house maid - an average looking one, at that. That's what the gorgeous sex-slaves were for. But it didn't stop his hands from wandering. Palming her breast when she unbuttoned the front of his uniform. Making sure she got a good look when he stepped out of his trousers and underwear. Squeezing her ass when she walked past to fetch his robe and rubbing her thigh absently when she came back._

_And so when she lingered while placing his robe on him, taking a moment to fiddle with the way the collar folded, he was nothing short of smug. Self-obsessed, unable to imagine a situation where a woman WOULDN'T want him, as aged and unpleasant as he was._

_So caught up in the feather-light touch of her hands, he didn't even notice the sewing needle prick his skin. It was quick. Painless. Right into the meat on his neck and out again, then tucked away back into her sleeve. She was careful, oh so careful, not to prick herself._

_A poisoned needle was every bit as effective as a blaster._

_The next morning, they would find him cold in his bed. Some would suspect foul play, but none would care enough to investigate, especially since there wasn't a mark on him. He wasn't a young man, and it looked an awful lot like heart failure. Lord Burkisn would inform the Imperial remnants that he'd died of natural causes, and determined the matter closed._

_Hetta was outraged at losing her nanny. She stomped and wailed and cried._

_The baby, though, was perfectly happy._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

Hyperspace was quiet. Beyond the constant drone of the engines was a deafening, oppressive nothing. No matter how many times Elsi traveled through space, a part of her always expected the swirling vortex to make a sound - like a whirlpool, maybe, or a windstorm - and was then surprised when it didn't.

It put her on edge. It was hard to blend into silence.

Twenty minutes or so had passed, and Elsi still sat in the seat, playing with her bracelet. The Mandalorian had gone back to ignoring her, which suited her just fine. Every so often the baby would mumble in his sleep, alerting Elsi to the fact that he would probably only sleep for another hour or so.

She twisted the leather braid around a finger and tugged. As before, beads scattered spectacularly across the floor, shattering the silence as effectively as glass. She grimaced at the sound, then looked to the Mandalorian for a reaction.

The bounty hunter's shoulders rose and fell as he heaved a sigh. He flipped a switch, but didn't bother turning around to look.

"Sorry," Elsi mumbled, standing and stooping to chase after the beads.

Elsi knelt down behind the Mandalorian's seat, fishing a few of the smaller beads from the ridge created by the juncture of the base of the pilot's seat and the floor.

The headrest would pose an issue. But she thought she could turn it in her favor.

She stood, rolling the small handful of beads around in her hand, letting them clink together a bit before tucking them soundlessly into her pocket. Minus clasp and beads, the uncoiled bracelet dangled from her palm, reduced to a roughly two foot length of braided leather...

With a steel cord running through the center.

Elsi was practical. Even if she wasn't sure of a decision, she knew better than to dwell on it. Now was no exception.

In one smooth motion, she wrapped the ends of the bracelet thrice around her hands, turned, and snapped the garrote twice around the Mandalorian's neck.

And _pulled._

With a grunt of surprise, his hands flew to his throat, clawing at the twisted leather in a vain attempt to get his fingers beneath it and prevent it from getting any tighter. The bounty hunter's helmet banged back against the headrest, a strangled gasp bubbling out of the modulator.

Elsi wedged herself behind the chair, snaking the ends of the cord around the headrest edges in an attempt to keep him in the chair. The garrote bit painfully into her fingers, but she would never let go.

If she did, he would kill her.

Suddenly, the Mandalorian _stood_ , ripping the headrest clean off the chair and yanking Elsi up with him.

She still didn't let go. Instead, she used the momentum of being jerked off her feet to lock her knees into his waist so that he carried her on his back. Like this, most of her weight was on his throat.

He managed to draw his blaster and was able to squeeze off a wild shot behind him, narrowly missing Elsi's head, before she was able to kick it out of his hand.

She knew he had a knife in his boot, but also knew that if he bent down to grab it, it would be easy for her to knock him off balance. If she got him to the ground, it would be over. He knew that, too.

The Mandalorian sobbed for air. One of his gloved hands groped behind him and managed to snag a fistful of her hair.

Elsi cried out in pain as he tried to yank her off of him. She was just able to turn her head and sink her teeth into his wrist between the glove and vambrace. She tasted blood. A strangled, airless groan ripped from his throat and he let go.

He was weakening rapidly. Staggering, he threw his weight backwards, slamming Elsi against the door to the cockpit.

A sharp pain radiated out from the center of her back. Still, she hung on.

Somewhere in the struggle, one of them hit the button to open the door. It slid open and they tumbled out.

The hunter's movements had become clumsy. Out on the landing next to the ladder, he sluggishly threw himself sideways into one of the walls, his shiny new pauldron clanging metallically as they scraped past.

His legs gave out on him. The Mandalorian fell.

He landed on his knees, but Elsi's weight on his back forced him the rest of the way down. The face of his helmet clattered against the metal floor.

For a few desperate moments, he continued to struggle. Elsi adjusted so she knelt in the center of his back, pinning him down for good.

His leather gloves squeaked as he scrabbled helplessly. The same gloves he'd removed for her only a little over a week ago.

He shuddered. All the life drained out of him, and he fell limp beneath her.

Elsi kept her hold, not trusting the stillness that had fallen over them. Her breathing was loud and harsh in the sudden quiet as she struggled to catch her breath.

She waited.

She waited.

Elsi finally let herself believe that it was over and had started to feel a bit guilty. She didn't think that the Mandalorian was a bad man. Whether or not he deserved death was beyond her realm of knowledge, but he'd generally been kind to her.

But what choice did she have?

Suddenly, the bounty hunter surged to life. With one last, desperate burst of strength, he flipped them over, rolling on top of Elsi and taking them both straight over the landing edge. Together, they fell down the ladder and into the cargo hold.

Elsi hit the ground first. All of the air was forced out of her lungs, both by the impact and by the weight of the fully armored man that landed on top of her. Mercifully, she managed to keep her head from splattering on the cargo bay floor, but could do nothing to prevent the back of the Mandalorian's helmet from smashing into the side of her face.

Stunned, she gapped up at the ceiling, fading in and out of consciousness while she tried to remember how to breathe. Her vision swam with dark spots, but she was able to hear the desperate, ragged breath the Mandalorian drew when her grip on the garrote slackened.

The only thing she was aware of was pain. Even in her foggy brain, she knew she was hurt bad. Concussion, no doubt. Broken ribs, definitely, maybe even a fractured spine. She didn't think she would be paralyzed, though - she knew she could feel everything because everything hurt.

There was no telling how long they laid there. Time was immaterial to Elsi, but she spent every second of it fighting. She fought to breathe, she fought to remain conscious, and she fought to regain control of her own body.

Even so, the Mandalorian recovered first.

She was completely powerless to stop him when he grabbed her by the throat and heaved her to her feet with the animalistic strength that came from pure adrenaline. Elsi tried to get her legs underneath her, but they wouldn't obey, floundering helplessly as he dragged her deeper into the hold.

As she clawed at the hand closed like a vice around her throat, Elsi knew she was about to die. She saw her own reflection in the Mandalorian's visor - saw the terror, saw the weak, pathetic little creature she was - and wondered if the last thing she ever saw would be a reminder of her failure.

All the thoughts were dashed from her head when her back slammed against something hard. For a split second, she was looking out at the Mandalorian from a kind of rectangular harness.

The air around her filled with freezing smoke, and all she knew was darkness.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

Darkness ate at the edges of Din Djarin's vision, but he forced himself to stay standing until fog cleared and he saw the twisted, frozen face of the slave-woman.

Finally safe, he sank to the ground beside the carbonite freezer, and the last thing he was aware of before he lost consciousness was the distant sound of the baby crying in the cockpit.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


End file.
